


Separation and Clearance Rules for Instrument Flight

by ShippenStand



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMFs, Disabled Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippenStand/pseuds/ShippenStand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most recent addition to the Atlantis expedition, computer scientist Dr. Cameron Mitchell, has an idea for interfacing Earth computers with the Ancient systems. When Col. Sheppard tells him the city is talking in English, Cam isn't surprised. Given their history, he'd be more surprised if it were <i>Sheppard</i> who suddenly started communicating in English. But when John and the city together discover something that shouldn't be there, something that has the Wraith interested, too, it's going to take more than an interface to keep the city safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separation and Clearance Rules for Instrument Flight

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Cameron Mitchell did not completely recover, but he didn't leave the Stargate Program. Beta by [Tesserae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tesserae/pseuds/Tesserae), to whom I owe the best bits. Written for the 2012 SGA Reverse Big Bang for a really wonderful image by [Kazbaby](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazbaby/pseuds/Kazbaby).

Richard Woolsey was good at legalities. He understood law, and he cared about fairness. But his first thought on seeing the orders in front of him was a knee-jerk negative, and his mind was still on that reaction when he walked into the conference room. He sat down, nodding greetings at Col. Sheppard, Dr. McKay, Teyla, a few others. Thus distracted, he let the meeting go by swiftly.

"Are we done?" McKay said, reaching for his laptop.

"Not exactly, I'm afraid. There's a personnel transfer we need to discuss."

Sheppard's eyebrows went up, but McKay stated the obvious. "Why? What personnel matter could be so important that you bring it up with the senior staff?" Then McKay sat up. "Are you leaving? Is someone in this room leaving?" He looked around at Sheppard, Keller and Teyla with something like alarm. McKay did not like his world disrupted.

"No, Dr. McKay. There is someone transferring in. A Dr. Cameron Mitchell." This time, it was Sheppard’s turn to sit up straighter. If Richard hadn't spent the last year purposefully learning his military commander's tells, he would have missed it. He wasn't sure what the extra attention meant, so he continued. "He was an F302 pilot who essentially saved SG1 and crashed over Antarctica." Sheppard was nodding slightly. This wasn’t news to him.

"Right. I saw his file," McKay said. "Doctorate in computer science. Clever, really. He presented his SGC work on Ancient systems as simply theoretical work. It was enough for a second-tier university to give him three letters after his name." Rodney pulled his eyebrows together. "Of course he'd want to come here. We have the only fully intact Ancient computer system. Why are we talking about this at a senior staff meeting?"

Richard glanced at Sheppard, who was looking at the tabletop, his lips slightly compressed. If Sheppard knew, he wasn't saying. Richard took a breath. "Dr. Mitchell uses a wheel chair."

"Doesn't affect his _mind_ ," McKay said. "Dr. Perry is reasonably not stupid, and she's paralyzed from the neck down."

"No, but the Ancients didn't exactly have the Americans with Disabilities Act to consider in their construction design. I'm not sure whether we can accommodate him."

Sheppard spoke. "No problem.”

"Excuse me?" Richard said. "I think we need to consider his safety."

"There is nowhere he can't get on wheels. It may mean he goes a bit out of his way, but he can get everywhere on a level floor with transporters." Sheppard gestured vaguely toward the Gateroom. "There's that transporter on the same floor as the Gate. We just don't use it unless we have wounded." He cocked his head and barely moved his shoulder in a shrug. "Besides, he can walk if he has to. Crutches."

Richard blinked. He'd been set to find a way to refuse the transfer on the grounds of inability to make reasonable accommodations, and had been looking for supporting information. "Well, then," he said, surprised to feel relieved. "Then we'll look forward to our new member of the scientific staff."

"We can use him," McKay said. "Are we done here?"

***  
Lindsey Novak sat down opposite Cam in the lower crew lounge of the _Daedelus_ with two cups of coffee, pushing one over to him. It was exactly the right color, and when he sipped it he was pretty sure it would be exactly the right sweetness. It broke his mood of _I want to shoot something_. He couldn't shoot Lindsay. "Thank you kindly, ma'am,” he said, closing his laptop. "You are the smartest, nicest thing on this boat. What did I do to deserve this?”

She flushed slightly, looking down at her own cup. “Well, we'll be there this afternoon, ship's time. I'll miss having you on board.”

Cam looked at her, but she kept her eyes down. “You were the bright spot on this tin can. I can't believe we're almost there and I haven't even gotten a peek out the window.”

Lindsay looked up at him her eyebrows rising. “Really?”

“Really.” Cam gave her a tired smile. 

“But you could just go–” Lindsay stopped herself.

“No, I can't. Stairs are a bitch, and no one even bothered to show me where they were. Hell,” he said, “you're about the only person calls me anything other than Dr. Mitchell.”

Lindsey swallowed. “I thought you liked this lounge because it was quieter. The observation deck is usually noisy, and I thought you just liked to work here.”

“Oh, heck no,” Cam said. “I come here just to have a different set of steel walls to look at than the ones in my cabin. Plus, getting myself here and back is about the only exercise I get.” He gestured at his braces. "It's not even far enough to get my heart rate up if I roll, so I use the crutches.”

"What about the freight elevators?"

Cam quoted, "OSHA regulations prohibit using freight elevators for personnel," he snorted, adding, "and you've got the only captain who feels the need to enforce OSHA rules a couple of quadrillion miles out of its jurisdiction."

Lindsay rolled her eyes, sipping, and then sat up straight and pointed to a clear area next to the table. “Can you stand right here and wait a minute?” She stood quickly, watching Cam's face until he nodded, and then rushed out of the lounge.

Cam levered himself out of the chair, slipped his hands through the cuffs on his crutches and grasped the handles. Then he remembered his laptop. He loosed one arm and slipped the computer into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. The beam caught him before he could get his crutch, and as he faded out, he saw it leaning on the table.

He materialized in another lounge, more sparsely furnished. A few people blinked at him, greenish light playing over their faces like they were underwater. He dropped his backpack gently to the floor to make it easier to balance and levered himself partway around using only the one crutch, and turned his head. He caught his breath with his first sight of hyperspace. 

After a few moments he felt a hand gentle on the arm without the crutch. Lindsay said, “I'm such an idiot for not thinking of just beaming you sooner, but I had no idea they'd limited you to Deck 4. Would you like to sit down?”

“No ma'am,” Cam said, but he let her help steady him as he turned to fully face the viewport. He had seen stars clearer than anything from the cockpit of an F302, up out of the atmospheric haze. It had not prepared him for this.

“We're going to have to drop out of hyperspace in a few hours. Do you want to stay here for a while? ” Lindsey asked.

“Yeah,” Cam said, almost with a sigh. “Yes, I do.”

“I'll need to be in the engine room,” she said. “Do you want me to bring you anything?”

He looked down at her, smiling. “Could probably use my other crutch.”

“Oh! Did I miss it?” She looked truly alarmed. “I never make mistakes like that with beaming. I mean, not usually. I've never left a body part behind, that is.”

“Not a body part, even if it feels like it sometimes," Cam said, trying to sooth her panic. "Don't worry. I wasn't holding it. I stopped to grab my laptop, and set it aside.”

“I'll run and get it.” She scampered out of the room. Cam thought there really wasn't another word for it. The only thing he'd miss from this boat was that little ball of energy and brains. He'd learned more about Asgard approaches to computing just shooting the breeze with her than from any of the other computer scientists back under the mountain at SGC. The Asgard really did think differently than the Ancients and their descendent races. He watched the changing light, finally letting himself wonder what the bridge was like on this ship, and how anyone flew something this big.

“Here,” Lindsey said, and he noticed that she put a crutch next to him with its tip resting on the deck, held so that he could easily slide his hand in the cuff.

“Thank you kindly, ma'am.”

Lindsey picked up his backpack and placed on one of the seats. “I left you a radio, so you can call me when you want to go back to your cabin.”

“Thank you,” Cam said. “Seriously. I don't know how to thank you.”

She smiled, and gave him a little wave as she turned to go.

Cam stayed in the observation lounge for hours, watching the drop out of hyperspace with a thrill that would have only been better if he were flying it. The stars mesmerized him, and when a blue planet came into view, with landmasses that were totally unfamiliar, he felt something well up in his chest. This was an alien world, and he was going there.

He was also hungry by that point, so his reserves were low, and if he had to dab his eyes, no one would notice.

The radio beeped, and he heard Lindsey calling him. "Cam? Are you still on the observation deck?"

He picked up the forgotten radio. "Yes, ma'am."

"We're going to land in about two hours. Do you need to go back to your cabin and pack?"

He did, but he didn't want to. "How long before we hit the atmosphere?"

"About 30 minutes."

"Can I talk you into getting me back here before that starts? I'd like to see the show."

"Sure thing. Let me know when you're ready to beam now, and then call me when you're done."

Cam reached for his crutches, and backpack. "Ready." In a flash of white light he was back in his quarters. There wasn't much to do, just put his toothbrush and razor back into the spit kit and add it to the laundry in his duffle bag. His one big bag and his racing chair were in the cargo hold. 

"C'mon, Beulah," he said, unfolding his chair from where it had sat for the last three weeks. He arranged himself with the duffle in his lap and his crutches in their sling and radioed Lindsey. She had him back on the observation deck in time for the first entrance into the outer atmosphere, and Cam watched it, slitting his eyes at the white-hot flare of entry as it glowed around the shields, and opening them to watch their descent. At his first glimpse of it, realizing that the dark dot was Atlantis, his breath caught.

He hadn't even set foot in the city, and the swelling in his chest started again as he watched the spires draw closer. It felt like falling in love. He stared at it, trying to memorize the details until they landed, and all he could see was one alien wall. Lindsey radioed, and they kept their goodbyes short. He'd see her again before the _Daedelus_ left. She beamed him to the pier, and he was inhaling as soon as he knew the beaming was over. Fresh air. The first air of a planet in another fucking galaxy, and if that wasn't the coolest thing ever, he didn't know.

He wasn't ready for the jolt he felt when John Sheppard walked over and stuck out a hand. "So it's Dr. Mitchell now." 

Cam's eyes flitted to John's shoulders, even though he knew he'd see oak leaves. "And Col. Sheppard. I always figured you'd piss off too many people to make it that far." He grasped the offered hand. Knowing Sheppard was here and seeing him again were two different things. The man didn't look a day older, and he was still gorgeous. Still careful, too, if he'd been promoted to military commander.

"Me, too," Sheppard said, shaking Cam's hand with that lopsided, too-casual grin Cam remembered. They'd overlapped for nine good months at Maxwell in Alabama, with a lot of after-hours meetings on the QT. They dropped their hands, Sheppard letting go perhaps a second too soon, and Sheppard called over an airman with a clipboard. 

"Can you get someone to show Dr. Mitchell where his quarters are and teach him how the transporters work?"

"Yes sir," the man said, and Cam noted he didn't salute.

"Transporters?" Cam asked.

"City's too big to get around without them, and it means you never have to worry about stairs." Cam liked the sound of that, and he liked how Sheppard just dealt with the fact of his injury. He'd been ready for things to be awkward for more than one reason. He could play it however Sheppard wanted.

A Marine stepped up. "Dr. Mitchell, I'm to show you to your quarters," he said, and stepped behind Cam to start pushing Beulah. She didn't have any handles, so he'd dug his fingers under Cam's back to grab her back rail

"Stop," Cam said sitting up away from the knuckles in his back, but the Marine kept moving. "Stop!" Still the guy ignored him.

"He said to stop," Sheppard said from behind them, walking up to them and stepping so that Cam could see him, while he faced the Marine.

"Sir," the Marine said.

"He told you to stop, Pvt. Barnes. That means stop."

"I was just taking him to his quarters."

"You were told to _show_ him to his quarters," Sheppard said carefully. "Did he ask you to push him?"

"No, sir."

"No one touches Dr. Mitchell's chair unless he asks, unless it's a life or death emergency. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Spread the word, Private." Sheppard looked at Cam. "I'll catch up with you later," he said. "I need to check in with Col. Caldwell." He raised his hand, and Cam did, too, both grateful and annoyed that Sheppard had given the order. It wasn't like he wasn't capable of telling people to keep their hands off Beulah, but maybe this way he wouldn't have to say it so many times. And how the hell had Sheppard known to say it?

Pvt. Barnes moved to stand in front of him, eyes looking straight ahead. "My apologies, Dr. Mitchell." 

Cam thought the kid might be pale under those freckles. "I'm down here, son." 

Barnes looked like he didn't quite know what to do, but then he seemed to make a decision, looked straight at Cam and said, "Can I take your bag for you?"

"Sure thing," Cam said, and when Barnes had the bag over his shoulder, Cam said, "Lead the way."

It felt good to stretch his arms, pushing himself down the pier and into the corridor. It didn't last quite long enough. Barnes led him to a door and it opened like an elevator. "Transporter, sir."

Cam contained his complete geeker joy as Barnes explained how they worked, and when the door opened again they were in a very different corridor. "Damn. You don't even have time to need music." Barnes snorted at the small joke, and led Cam to a door. Cam contained himself again when they keyed the door to his biometrics. "Feel free to explore the city, Barnes said, stepping out of the way when the door opened. "There's a map on the desk with the no-go zones, and a paper explaining how to hook into the city's intranet. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you," Cam said, suddenly wanting to be alone in the room. When Barnes left he turned his chair in a circle and whooped. _Alien planet. Ancient city._ He put his spit-kit in the bathroom as a marker for moving in, and then picked up the map and looked at it. First place he needed to get to was the canteen, so he could eat _alien food_. "C'mon, Beulah," he said, and he rolled toward the door and out, following the map, and trying to keep the shit-eating grin off his face.

 

*****

After a week, he was still trying not to grin. Cam took a bite of the orange mashed thing that tasted like a cross between mashed turnips and cooked carrots. Most of the food on other people's trays was from Earth, which made sense with the _Daedelus_ in so recently. Cam had been making a point of trying things he'd never seen, and he also had a slab of something called rhunok that reminded him of a cross between lamb and venison. He saw a tray land opposite him and a voice say, "Hey," as John Sheppard sat down. "How's your first couple of days been?"

Cam swallowed for more than one reason, but he kept his response strictly business. "Been working with Dr. Zelenka getting an orientation on the Atlantis systems. Since I never got to the fun parts of Antarctica, this is the first _in situ_ Ancient computer set up I've gotten to use."

"What do you think?" Sheppard asked. 

"Pretty interesting," Cam said, trying to seem cool.

He almost jumped when he felt Sheppard's foot nudge his. That was a downright PDA for Sheppard, even if it was under the table. "Right," Sheppard said, his eyes glinting evilly. "Just _pretty interesting_?"

Cam half-grimaced and gave in. "The whole thing is really fucking cool."

"Thought you'd like the place," Sheppard said. "Gets hairy sometimes."

"So I read," Cam said.

"McKay's got his marksman rating."

"The astrophysicist carries?"

John shrugged, chewing. "He's on my gate team."

"I guess that makes sense." They ate in companionable silence for a while, and then Cam asked, "Do you think I should re-rate?"

"Wouldn't hurt. We could rig a holster for your chair." Sheppard appeared to think for a moment. "Calf holster wouldn't be hard."

Cam suppressed a flash of excitement. No one had thought of him as dangerous since his crash in Antarctica, but he said, "I'm not going through the gate."

John didn't look at him when he answered. "Not everything stays on the other side of the gate."

Cam hadn't come to another galaxy to be safe. He hadn't joined the Air Force to be safe. He said, "You set up a shooting range somewhere?"

"Yep," John said. He glanced over at Cam, finally meeting his eyes. The shooting range had been one of their meeting places at Maxwell. "Bit different, here."

Cam wasn't sure what he meant, but he looked pointedly at Sheppard's oak leaves and then back to his face. "Yeah. I get it."

Sheppard blinked, his back stiffening. "Didn't mean…" he started, the tips of his ears turning red. "I just think you should re-rate. New shooting height."

Cam felt his lips twisting. He wasn't sure why he felt disappointed, because he hadn't really expected anything to spark back up between them, but somehow the comment pointed at his injuries seemed like it held another meaning. He wasn't quite as pretty as he once had been. It shouldn't surprise him that Sheppard wouldn't be interested, even without the command to lose. Cam wasn't hungry any more, and he pushed his tray aside, but before he could leave, a big guy with dreadlocks sat down next to John.

"Hey," the man rumbled. "You must be one of the new guys. I'm Ronon," he said, offering his hand across the table.

Cam took in the gauntlets and the tattoos as they shook hands. "Cam Mitchell."

"Ronon's on my team," Sheppard said. "He's from Pegasus." He turned to Ronon and said, "Cam and I were just talking about getting him re-rated on at least a Beretta."

"Good idea," Ronon said, picking up his fork and getting to work on his food. 

"I mean it," John said, glancing quickly at Cam, then down at his own tray, and then up again, holding eye contact a moment longer than he should. 

Cam didn't know what to think, but Sheppard had always been one to take discretion to new heights, so he grinned as casually as possible. "Sounds like a plan. Let me get settled in and see how schedules work out."

"Schedules?" Ronon said, raising his eyebrows and looking at John. "What are those?" Cam didn't know him well enough, but he thought Ronon was probably joking.

"You know," Sheppard said. "Plans from which to deviate."

Cam laughed with them, feeling a little bit like he might belong here.

 

*****

Richard looked out at the staff meeting, summing up the last fifteen minutes of discussion. "So we'll continue to track that cruiser. If the Wraith don't know we're here, let's not draw attention." He took a breath. "Last point to cover: the new additions. We've had two weeks to see how they settle in. Colonel Sheppard, how are the new Marines?"

"Fine." 

Richard knew that meant anything from _they're as good as Boy Scouts_ to _I've already had to take a half-dozen behind the woodshed_. 

Richard turned, letting it go. He'd come to trust Sheppard. "Dr. McKay?"

"Dr. Jorgensen got his degree from a Cracker Jack box, and he has to go. The paperwork will be on your desk before the _Daedelus_ gets here. Dr. Mitchell is making inroads into a full understanding of Ancient computational theory, which I already mostly knew, but he has the advantage of thinking about it when he's not trying to save the city and has made some useful new connections. I think he'll be able to explain it to the morons, too, when he writes up his findings."

Richard fought the desire to put his head in his hands. "Anything else?"

"You," McKay said, looking at Sheppard. "Chair work. If we have Wraith in the area, I need to run some tests, and Dr. Mitchell has some ideas about better interfacing the control chair with our computers."

*****

John leaned the chair back, immersing himself in Atlantis. He left enough attention to McKay to do what he was asked, but for the most part he checked over the city, using the interface to nail down the location of potential problems. He never told Rodney he could do this. He just sent teams for 'routine inspections' to make sure the problems were found. Sometimes he felt like Atlantis talked to him, but it was never words. It felt like the city drew his attention where it needed to be.

"Okay, Colonel. Thanks," McKay said, jolting John back. "Enjoy your nap?"

John sat up, breaking the interface. "Sorry?"

"I can't see how that thing's comfortable," McKay said, packing up his equipment. 

John shrugged. "See you at lunch, Rodney."

"Yes, go do very important inventory paperwork or whatever it is you do. Save me a brownie. It's the last day we'll get them until the _Daedelus_ comes in again."

"Will do," John said on his way out the door. He walked to the transporter with his mind elsewhere, planning a few 'city exploration' missions to pick up on the leak in one of the fresh water systems, and the power conduit that had been repaired once, but needed seeing to. Cam Mitchell almost ran him down. John jumped out of the way, with a shouted "Hey!" and watched as Cam stopped himself some thirty feet away. He'd had some serious momentum going.

Cam spun his chair and rolled back to John. He was in sweats and a cut-off T-shirt that read, _Come to the nerd side. We have Pi._ , with dark sweat marks on the chest. "Sorry about that. I needed to clear my head, and these corridors are usually empty."

John tried not to stare at Cam's shoulders and biceps. He had more muscles than his pilot days. "Sorry we haven't scheduled that shooting session." He didn't want to admit he'd been putting it off. Saying _range time_ around Cam would bring up their time at Maxwell.

Cam gave a half-smile John couldn't read. "Well, I heard you'd been a bit busy. Rumors are flying about Wraith on the way. Should I be worried?"

"Nah," John started, but then decided not to dismiss the threat. "They're in system, but they don't seem to be looking for us. We'll cloak if we have to, and we're keeping an eye on them. All the more reason to get your shooting skills back up." 

"Sounds good to me," Cam said, and John could tell he was keeping his voice light. "What brings you out this way. I run here because there's hardly ever anyone here.

"McKay just had me in the control chair."

"Is this where it is?" Cam asked. "All McKay's let me see are schematics."

"We're a little careful about it." John said. "Potential for sabotage."

"Yeah, I get that, but it would help if I could see the damn thing," Cam said, raising a hand in apology and looking away. "Sorry. It's just frustrating."

John looked at Cam's profile and swallowed. Cam's hair was longer than he'd ever seen it, and it made his pointed nose fit his face better than a regulation cut. "C'mon," John said, so he could stop noticing. "It's this way."

Cam plucked at his T shirt. "Right now? I'm a little ripe."

"Suit yourself," John said. "I'm just looking for a way to avoid paper work." It was a lie, but Cam seemed to accept it. John thought maybe this was a neutral way to start being friends for real, not just with benefits. 

"Lead the way."

John turned back to the chair room and Cam fell in beside him. "What did you need to clear your head about?" John asked, looking for conversation.

"Geek stuff," Cam said.

"Try me. I don't know a lot about computers, but I'm pretty good with math."

Cam started with baby steps, but John questioned him to the point where they were deep into an explanation of why the HUD on the jumpers worked the way it did, paused a few steps from the door to the chair room, when McKay came out to find them in the corridor.

"Sounds like there's features you haven't even noticed," Cam said.

"I'll have to take you out so you can show me," John said, looking up to find McKay in the door with his arms full of computers and gear.

"What are you doing here?" McKay said to Mitchell. "Shouldn't you be in your office or something? You know, at work?"

"I am working," Cam said. "When I can't solve a problem by staring at it, I go for a run and let my hind brain work on it."

"A run?" McKay said, and John winced at the lack of tact.

"I did marathons, Dr. McKay," Cam said stiffly, and John gave McKay a look that usually worked to keep his mouth shut. 

McKay blinked. "Right."

"Anyway," John broke in, "I was just going to show Cam the actual chair, since you haven't bothered to let him see it."

McKay frowned. "Just don't touch anything."

John rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay."

McKay walked off, and John stood aside, gesturing at the door. "After you." 

"Thank you kindly," Cam said.

"Sorry McKay's an idiot," John said. He was used to apologizing for McKay. "Marathons, huh?"

"I do the Rock and Roll in Denver every year. Did Boston last year. Haven't figured out how to keep in training here."

John said it before he thought, but it felt like taking a plunge. "Ronon and I run every morning. It might not be your distance, but you're welcome to join us." Running with Ronon would be a safe way to hang out with Cam.

Cam looked startled for the barest half second, and then smiled. "I'd be glad to, if you can keep up. Now let's take a look at this famous chair."

John watched as Cam made his way around the room, his shoulders and arms flexing. There wasn’t much more than the chair itself—no control panels, nothing—so he wasn’t sure what it was Cam was looking for. He also wasn’t sure what to say to him.

Cam said, “You’re staring.”

John felt his ears go hot, and he looked down. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” Cam studied the back of the chair. 

John couldn’t let it stay silent, but he had no idea how to say what he wanted to say. “I read—“ he started, and then swallowed. “I read all the AARs.” He'd read more than that, including everything he could find on wheel chair etiquette. 

“They wouldn’t let me read yours,” Cam said. 

John swallowed and looked away, even though Cam was still looking at the chair. “I’ll fix that here. You can read anything you want.”

This time, rolling around the control chair with a grin on his face, Cam looked at him. “Son, I already have. When I decided to become a hacker, well, I went whole hog.”

“Secure files?” John said, putting a slight quaver into his voice, part of him realizing that he was flirting, and the rest of him not doing anything to stop it.

Cam’s grin turned evil. “Not so much. I mean, sure they’re supposed to be, but if I can’t fly F302s any more, I gotta get my fun somehow.”

John raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t changed a bit.” Cam looked at his legs and back at John with a dubious expression. “You know what I mean,” John said, feeling his ears turn hot again. “So, Wraith in the neighborhood. I need to get back to work.”

“And I need a shower,” Cam said, rolling to the door, and they walked down the corridor together. At the end John turned one way and Cam the other, so John stopped. 

“Tomorrow. Oh-five-thirty. South pier.”

“See you then,” Cam said, and waved a hand over his head as he rolled away. 

The next morning John and Ronon waited, stretching, Ronon edgy and waiting to be off. "Maybe he got lost," John said.

"If he's not here in 5 more minutes, I'm going without you."

"Or we could go by his quarters."

"Yeah," Ronon grinned. "Water in his face to wake him up?

"Be nice. He's new."

"How's he going to go running with us in a wheel chair? Don't see those any more. We did on Sateda, before…" He trailed off, then shrugged. He didn't have to say any more. Ronon made John feel lucky to the point of guilt. "What the hell is that?" Ronon asked, and John looked up and followed his glance.

Cam rolled up in a wild-looking chair, one wheel far out in front and Cam seated between two wheels canted inward. He was wearing a helmet. “Sorry about that. Still figuring my way around the city, and Man O’War here was pulling to the right. Had to make an adjustment.”

“Man O’War?” Ronon asked.

“Name of a famous racehorse,” John told him. “You named your chair?” he asked Cam.

“Yep. I don’t think you two can keep up with this one, but I thought I’d give it a whirl.”

“Keep up?” Ronon asked, raising his eyebrows.

“It’ll do over 20 miles an hour," Cam said.

Ronon looked at John. He didn’t have Earth measures clear in his head, so John just raised his eyebrows and nodded. “That’s fast. You won’t keep up.”

“Yeah?” Ronon looked at Cam. “Try me,” he said, and took off with no warning. Cam and John looked at each other and then started after him, and after less than a minute Cam had outpaced John and was gaining on Ronon. He overtook Ronon on a long corridor, going so fast that John yelled a warning, hoping Cam could stop the chair before crashing full-tilt into the T junction ahead. The chair, though, wasn't built for right-angle turns at speed, and the front wheel hit the wall at about a 30-degree angle, serving as a pivot point for the back end to slam against the wall. 

John’s heart stopped as Cam's body rose out of the seat, and it seemed like slow motion as he fell to the floor, the chair turning over and falling with him. John keyed his radio, yelling for a medical team, and ran. Cam wasn't moving, lying at an awkward angle, strapped into the chair just below his knees. "Oh, crap," John whispered, but Cam's eyes fluttered open.

"Ow," he said.

"Okay," Ronon said, jogging back to them. "Now I see why you need the helmet."

*****

“Again, Rodney?” John said, trying not to sound like he was whining.

“That cruiser has been sniffing around for weeks, and we can cloak if we need to, but there’s no telling if they’ll figure out that we’re here. I want to be completely ready.”

“Okay, okay.” John followed him to the chair room. "You made any progress on Cam's racing chair?"

"What?" McKay said, looking up from his laptop. "Oh, yes. I corrected several design flaws."

John stepped up to the platform and looked down to where McKay was connecting his computer to the chair. "He's doing okay, by the way."

"Hmm?"

"Cam. Dr. Mitchell. Keller says he'll be back at work in a couple of days. He strained his back and a hip flexor, but nothing’s broken."

"Good," McKay said, but John knew he wasn't paying attention. "Let's get started. We have some new ideas about communication between Ancient computers and our own."

"Isn't that what Cam was working on?"

"Yes, well, before he crashed he sent me an email with some new ideas specific to the command chair."

John didn't say what he was thinking. McKay couldn’t even wait for Cam to get back in the game before taking his ideas and running with them. He sat back in the chair, felt Atlantis around him, and first checked the sensors. That hive ship was still out there, and there was a blip, almost an echo, but John was certain. Another ship was coming in.

 _That is not good._ John heard.

"No kidding," he said.

"No kidding what?" McKay said.

John pulled himself out of the interface. "Didn't you say _That's not good_?"

"Don't think so."

"There's another ship on its way."

"Oh, not good," McKay said.

"You already said that."

"Whatever. Can we get back to work? If there are two ships, then this is even more important."

John leaned back, melded into Atlantis again, and watched the ships, dipping into the city's memory for when the blip first appeared. 

_There is no need for immediate concern_ , John heard.

"McKay?"

"Yes." He sounded irritated, although that was McKay's default when he was working on something.

"Did you say something?"

"Mmmm. Don't think so," McKay said, and John could tell he was completely distracted. 

He let himself slip back into the interface, and ventured a thought. _Why aren't you worried?_

The voice that answered was neutral, ungendered. _I have calculated the trajectory of the incoming ship, and analyzed the behavior of the one that has been here for the last week._

_And?_

_Here is my analysis,_ the voice said. 

John felt a wordless flood of information, math and analysis and history of Wraith ship behavior and capabilities spreading out in front of him. The second ship was a hive, not a cruiser. He thought, _I see where you're coming from, but I'm still worried._ He reminded Atlantis of their last battle with the Wraith, of the darts exploding on the shields. He thought about going up in a jumper with a nuclear bomb, expecting to die to save his people, to save the city. _I will always worry,_ he thought, and then he wondered who was hearing him.

"McKay?"

"What?"

"Are you reading anything different?"

"Well, I'm implementing some of Dr. Mitchell's protocols. Is something different on your end?"

John hesitated. "The city is talking to me," he finally said.

"Doesn't it always?"

"Not in English," John said slowly.

"Huh. Nothing I'm doing should change that," Rodney said. "Maybe you're imagining it. Why don't you take a break? I'll radio when I need you back again."

John made a non-committal noise and sat up from the chair. He didn't think he was imagining things. 

After he briefed Woolsey, he went to the infirmary to see Cam and found him sitting up in a bed, laptop on his knees. He still hadn't shaved, his beard a bit darker than yesterday.

"Hey," John said. "How's the back? Dr. Keller still got you on the very good drugs?"

"Just the good drugs," Cam said. "The regular good drugs wouldn’t touch it before, but it's back down to about normal. I should be out of here this afternoon once this last muscle relaxant wears off and the good doctor trusts me not to drown myself."

John was relieved to hear it. He nodded to the laptop. "You trying to work?"

Cam smiled, and John thought he looked a little looped, and he didn't mind at all what that did to Cam's smile. "Can't code for shit on Demerol," he said. "M'just playin' around with an idea."

"McKay took one of your ideas and kind of ran with it," John said. When Cam looked up with quizzical expression, he said, "About the chair interface."

"Didn't screw it up, did he?"

John snorted. "You sound like McKay." He couldn't talk about what had just happened. Atlantis talking in English was just too weird. Instead he said, "No, and I won't let him screw up the repairs for your racing chair. He's got a way to make it corner better."

"Hmph," Cam snorted. "He cornered just fine on a reasonable course. They don't put T junctions on marathons."

John didn't know what to say to that, and he didn't want to look at the way Cam's three-day beard was highlighting the curve of his chin, even though his eyes kept landing there. He suddenly wanted to be gone. "So, I need to, uh, you know."

Cam looked at him, eyes sharper than John would have expected, given the drugs. "I know."

John walked to the door, and then paused, looking back, wondering if he should ask about the chair speaking in English. Cam's eyes were on his screen, a small smile on his lips. Keller was definitely giving him the better drugs.

John went back to the control chair. McKay was gone, and the room was dimly lit. It brightened as he came through the door, but he thought it back down. With the light his heart had started to speed up, and it didn't slow down when the room darkened again. He took a deep breath, admitting that he was more spooked than he wanted to think about, but something about the analysis of the Wraith ship movements had stuck with him. He sat down in the chair, leaned back, and fell into Atlantis.

He checked the ships first. The two blips were there, so he ventured to think in words, _So, can we look at that analysis again?_

There was no answer. Maybe he'd been hallucinating, but he was well rested. John started feeling his way through Atlantis's sensor nets the way he usually did, looking for the information the city had presented to him before. He thought he'd seen something that didn't make sense. "Where is it?" he muttered.

 _What are you looking for?_

There it was. Almost a surprise to hear the voice, but not quite. It wasn't creepy, like HAL, or wholly cold, like the computer from Star Trek. "What you showed me earlier, from tracking the Wraith ships. I have an idea."

 _Okay_ , John heard, and then the images came again, fast but not too fast, letting him make sense of them. There were equations and plots, and projections of the system in the air, aligning like an orrery. Moving.

"What's the math?" John asked, wondering idly, he thought, because he hadn't learned Ancient number systems.

 _Here._

The equations appeared in numbers and symbols that John could understand. It must have something to do with Cam's new interface. _Wow_ , he thought. _When did you learn to talk?_ , he thought, but there was no answer. He tried it aloud. "When did you learn to talk?"

There was a slight pause. _It was a question of compatible language._

"Was it the new interface programs?"

 _Yes_.

John wasn't sure that this was answer enough. "You planning to turn into HAL?"

There was another slight pause. _I cannot be other than I am._

"And who are you?"

The answer was not in words. The answer was an immediate connection to all that was Atlantis. John wasn't overwhelmed. He had some control over how much information to let in, but it was slightly different from the usual sense of Atlantis alone. He had some sense of the people in it, the life-signs indicators tying in to the environmental controls and the engineering consoles, a brief sense of the external computers that were hooked into the Ancient machines. Not just the city. Atlantis thought of itself as everything in it, even the people and machines from Earth.

John wasn't entirely comfortable with what was happening, but he didn't get the feeling that Atlantis wasn't friendly. He liked that it included themselves and their equipment. Perhaps the crew of the _Tria_ had been unfriendly, but the city itself seemed more welcoming.

 _You were looking for something_ , the voice prompted.

"Yeah." John he started concentrating, looking for the pattern he thought he might have seen. _There_ , he thought, calling up a display that he hadn't thought he could do in Atlantis. It was like that moment when Rodney told him to think of the solar system in the control chair in Antarctica. _Okay_ , he thought, not sure what he was talking to. "Let's play around with this," he said aloud.

_What do you want to do?_

"If you look over here," he said, mentally lighting up one of the lines. "There's a slight deformation. That inflection in the observed curve indicates a deviation from the expected elliptic, which looks like there's something acting on it. Potentially gravity. If we can figure out what would give it that shape from the math, we might be able to figure out what it is, or exactly where."

They set to work, and John realized there must be something big, a body that shouldn't be there and that the sensors didn't show.

Eventually, John raised his hand from the control chair and tapped his radio earpiece. "McKay, can you come back to the chair room?"

"Why? Did you break something?"

"Seriously. You need to see this."

"On my way."

John stared at the floating display for a while, and then closed his eyes. It was clearer in his head, and he worked with Atlantis to set up the equations that would clarify what they thought they were seeing. He didn't like it.

He heard the door open and McKay's voice, "All right, what's so important that—" McKay drew a loud breath. "How did you make it do that?" John opened his eyes. McKay was slack-jawed, staring at the three-D display. "What am I looking at? I mean it's this solar system, obviously, and I can see that, but…" McKay's voice trailed off. "What is that?"

"You mean this?" John said, pointing out the inflection point by willing it to brighten.

"Someone's playing games with gravity."

"Yeah, let me show you the math," John said. "I don't understand what it means from an astrophysics standpoint."

"Yes, yes, that's my job. Can you make that thing work like a whiteboard?"

"Atlantis?" John said.

 _I cannot_ , said the voice.

"Don't think so," John said. 

"Hang on a minute," McKay said, and started working on his tablet. "Don't change anything until I have this."

"So what do you think it is?"

"Working," McKay said. "Talk later."

John closed his eyes again. "With the new interface, do you think you could just download this onto one of our computers?"

He was asking Atlantis, but McKay said, "Huh. Maybe."

_It will be on the second laptop in his office._

"The city says it's already on one of your computers, the second laptop in your office," John said.

"What?" McKay looked up. "What do you mean _the city says_?"

"Atlantis speaks English now."

"Get up! Right now!" McKay said.

"It's all right, Rodney."

"No. Now. Now! I'm pretty sure the city isn't supposed to be talking to you."

John sat up, not really wanting to let go. "I mentioned it this morning. Why the freak-out now?"

"I wasn't paying attention this morning!"

That didn't make John feel any better, but he couldn't bring himself to get worked up over it. The voice hadn't seemed like anything threatening, and he'd suspected the city's computers made a distributed AI. "Okay, okay. Let's go see if that information is on your other computer. Maybe the Wraith aren't looking for us. Maybe they're interested in whatever it is."

"Whatever it is probably shouldn't exist. Did you see anything on the sensors?" McKay asked, hustling them out of the chair room and to a transporter.

"Not directly. Everything around it just acts wrong." John shrugged, not entirely sure he wanted Rodney to keep poking at him. "That's why I called you, Rodney. You're the astrophysicist."

They entered the transporter, and McKay tapped his earpiece as they exited. John walked with him to the lab, feeling caught up in McKay's wake, listening to him talk to Zelenka. When they reached the door, John said, "I'll go brief Woolsey."

McKay looked up from his laptop. "Stay out of the chair."

"Yeah, yeah," John said. He had no intention of staying out of the chair. That had been _cool_ , like surfing with numbers.

He stopped John with a hand on his arm, a momentary grip. "I mean it. I don't know what's going on with the city talking to you.

"It always has, sort of. It said the new interface protocols gave it a better language capacity."

McKay glanced around the walls of the corridor and grimaced. "I don't like the thought of Atlantis going HAL on us.”

"It won't, McKay. Now go find out what it is that isn't there." Rodney nodded tightly, and John went up to Woolsey's office. 

*****

Richard looked up from his laptop as others filed into the briefing room. McKay and Zelenka came in, followed a few minutes later by Sheppard. He waited while McKay busied himself with a laptop, head close to Dr. Zelenka. "Gentlemen," he said, finally, "what do you have?"

"The Wraith aren't looking for us," McKay said. "Not that they won't find us if they keep looking around here, but we're probably not what drew them here." He paused.

"So what did?" Richard prompted.

McKay made a face and turned the laptop to face Richard. There were a lot of elliptical lines on it, but McKay's blunt finger landed on the screen. Next to in were a few places where the smooth lines of the elliptical shapes deformed around _something_ , but there was nothing in the area. "Something is there that the sensors can't see, but it has enough gravity to change the way those asteroids behave. It doesn't show up in any energy spectrum."

"Could it be shielded?"

"Possible," Zelenka said. "The energy required to shield an object that big--"

"But it isn't size that matters for gravity," McKay interrupted. "It's density."

Richard's brain served up an old movie quote, _You're my density_ , but he pushed it aside before he could smile. "Is this a security threat?" He glanced at Sheppard.

"Only in so much as the Wraith are interested, and they're not great neighbors."

Richard nodded. "I suppose you've come to ask to take a closer look in one of the jumpers."

"Well, of course," McKay said.

"I'll take it under advisement. In the mean time, please keep me apprised of any changes in the Wraith's movement, or that, thing that isn't there."

***

Cam looked up at the swoosh of the door to the computer lab. Sheppard sauntered in, running his hand over a table surface as he went, looking at his hand and not at Cam. "What brings you into geekdom, colonel?"

Sheppard looked up. "I was, uh, wondering when you wanted to start re-certifying." Cam raised his eyebrows. "I meant it," Sheppard said. "Another person with a weapon in the right place can make a difference."

Cam glanced around, confirming that the lab was empty. Sheppard had been playing "let's pretend" as if nothing had ever happened between them, which would be fine if the man didn't keep flirting with him. He decided to push it. Sheppard was like quicksilver, hard to pin down. "You know, that could be taken all kinds of ways. Range time might be just what we both need," he said, deliberately invoking their old code word.

Sheppard studied the table next to him. "Look," he started. "Maxwell." Then he didn't say anything, looking everywhere but at Cam.

Cam folded his arms. "Maxwell was Maxwell, and what happens on one base doesn't get carried to another. I get that, but you've been making eyes at me, Col. Sheppard. At Maxwell I wasn't even sure you _liked_ me."

Sheppard looked at the wall. "Too much, maybe."

Cam snorted, letting out his irritation. "Man, you sound like a girl."

Sheppard looked at the closed door, an edge around his eyes like he could go into flight mode in a heartbeat. "About that. It was hard to hang out with you. Afraid I'd let something slip."

Cam felt a shiver of anger tensing his leg muscles, but for Sheppard this was a huge admission. It sounded almost like feelings. Cam kept his voice as light as he could. "That the problem here? We run in the mornings, you came and saw me every day in the infirmary, and you got McKay to fix Man O'War for me. Almost feels like courtin'."

Sheppard's mouth twisted upwards on one side. "Military commander. Old friend. Looks okay."

Cam went for blunt. "Then you better get someone else to get me back up to Marksman, because if I end up on a shooting range with you, I'm going to have a Pavlovian reaction."

"It was fifteen years ago," Sheppard said.

"So?" Cam said. "I could go right back to where we were in a heartbeat." He didn't say the rest of what he was thinking. He'd like more than what they had before, if Sheppard weren't bug crazy.

"I can't," Sheppard said, barely opening his mouth to let the words out.

Cam ticked off options on his fingers. "You don't trust me, you've got someone else, or you can't handle Beulah, here."

"I don't know," Sheppard said, looking at the wall over Cam’s left shoulder.

Cam sighed. Bug crazy _and_ as closed off as ever. "Well, the middle one's usually a yes or no answer. I'll try again: Someone else?"

"No." Sheppard's answer was quiet, and Cam wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't bolted already. 

"Then you don't trust me to be discreet, or you have a problem with my legs."

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Well, that was honest." Sheppard's answer was a shrug. "Look," Cam said, reckless and angry and hopeful, "either go for it, or stop dangling the bait."

Sheppard finally glanced at him. "I wasn't sure."

"You're still not." Cam turned his chair back to the computer station, dismissing Sheppard and ignoring the tension built up in his body. He heard the door as Sheppard let himself out, and leaned back, letting out a groan of frustration. Since the moment Sheppard had mentioned that Atlantis had a range, Cam had let himself remember, let himself imagine.

Alien fucking planet. Same fucking Sheppard.

*****

John walked back toward the transporter that would take him to his office, but he put in the coordinates that would take him to the chair room. Cam had rattled him, and he didn't want to face anyone. He'd already run and worked out today, and he needed to work out the nervous energy. Damn Cameron Mitchell, offering what John wanted and couldn’t let himself have. He needed to focus on something else. It had been a couple of days since he and Atlantis had discovered the anomaly, and he thought he could distract himself by looking at it again. McKay and Zelenka had a bunch of ideas, but John thought maybe they were missing something. 

He heard McKay in his mind when the door opened, telling him to stay out of the chair, but he didn't imagine there'd be any harm. He liked being able to work more directly with the city. As much as everyone seemed to think Atlantis treated him like a favored son, it wasn't always easy to find what he needed. Asking questions in English helped.

He sank into the chair and slid into Atlantis. He checked the Wraith ships out of habit. They were closer to the anomaly than before. John wondered if they were being cautious, or couldn't quite see it. "Hi," he said aloud, feeling foolish.

 _Hello, John Sheppard_ , he heard.

"So. Um, can we look at that thing again?"

_What thing?_

"The gravitational anomaly." In answer, the three-D image appeared again. John wasn't sure what he was looking for. "How dense would that point have to be to cause those inflections?" He asked. "And how small?" Calculations began to stream by, and John had a momentary flash of The Matrix. "Slow down." The numbers slowed appreciably. "What could cause that?"

_No stable element is dense enough to produce that level of gravitational effect within the size parameters of the orbital deflections._

"Does McKay know this?" John wondered, not really asking Atlantis.

_He has reached the same conclusion._

"Could have mentioned it," John muttered. Atlantis didn't answer. He sat quiet for a moment, eyes on the display in front of him, but not really looking at it. "We need to get a visual."

 _Sensors pick up all spectra_.

"So not an unstable element, either?"

_No radioactivity above background. However, the object is cloaked._

"Maybe we can get inside the cloak and take a look."

_The gateships do not posses any sensors that are not available here, and they do not have the same level of dedicated computational power to analysis. I am unsure what organic visualization would achieve._

"That's how humans are. We like to go look at things." Atlantis didn't answer. John stared at the area defined by the inflections. "Oblate spheroid," he said. "We need to take a look. Are you sure there isn't something in the jumpers that will help us?"

 _Perhaps. Working_. Atlantis paused for a long moment. _There is a database entry on matching shield frequencies._ The math began to appear before John in Ancient, then converted to the numbers he was used to.

"That's great. Can you send it to McKay?"

John thought there was a slight hesitation. _I can_.

"Thanks."

*****

McKay was drawing on a napkin, and Cam plucked the pen out of his hand. McKay hadn't let him get a word in edgewise, and he was tired of watching the man be wrong, wrong, wrong, to use McKay's own words. McKay looked up, sputtering, but Cam pointed the pen at him. "You're missing something."

McKay sat back and crossed his arms. "And you know what it is I'm missing? After two whole months in the city, you've figured out something I missed in the last six years?"

"Nothing personal, Dr. McKay, but you _use_ computers. I study them."

"You're a fighter pilot with pretensions of intellect. What could you possibly have figured out that we haven't? You're not the first computer scientist in this city."

"Yes, but I'm the first ex-fighter pilot computer scientist." Cam flipped over the napkin, and started again. "Atlantis is a city, but it's also a starship. Some of its organization, I mean as far as the computers are concerned, brings in that way of thinking. The Ancients never liked to sit still, near as we can tell. Stargates, hyperdrives on cities. Hell, they didn't even want to stay corporeal."

"So?"

"So their computers reflect that."

"And in practical terms?"

"Everything moves. Or it has the potential to move. There are very few computers in this city where the hardware is purpose-specific. It may look like it from the different shapes of the consoles, but---"

"Right, right," McKay said, and Cam could see his natural dismissiveness was covering a spark of interest. "That's why we can pull crystals and use them in different places. Your point?"

"Well, look," Cam said, and he started drawing. 

The napkin was almost full when Sheppard sat down. There were Cam's blue lines, and black ones where McKay had brought out a second pen. Cam glanced up, but Sheppard was looking at the napkin. "What's this about?"

"Computer design, Ancient fashion," Cam said, still looking at Sheppard. Sheppard finally glanced at him, but he dropped his eyes. Cam didn't sigh. They'd met for the morning run with Ronon the last few days, but John hadn't eaten with him, or talked with him at all. Sheppard was here because of McKay.

Sheppard took a few bits, and then looked at McKay. "Any luck on the shield frequency-matching stuff?"

"Stuff?" McKay said. 

"You know, that stuff Atlantis put on your laptop?"

"When?" McKay said, around a mouthful.

"A few days ago?"

Cam kept his eyes on his food and concentrated on eating. Things had gone cold while he'd been wrangling with McKay.

"Have you been back in the command chair, Colonel?" McKay sounded angry. "I told you it was a bad idea."

"It's fine, Rodney. We were looking for ways to figure out what that thing is out there, and Woolsey still won't let us go look."

"Not with the Wraith getting closer to it," McKay said, standing and picking up his tray. "I'll go see if I can find the data on shield matching. It's not like we haven't already done that. Colonel, stay out of the chair."

"Yeah, yeah," Sheppard said.

"That's what you said last time. I'll post a guard on the door if I have to."

"With what Marines, Rodney? They report to me."

McKay huffed and walked away. Cam smiled to himself. They were like an old married couple. If he didn't know McKay was straight, he'd wonder about him and John. 

He caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye as Sheppard pushed the napkin toward him. “Um,” he said, a little stupidly, and covered it with a grin. Now he was alone with Sheppard, and he didn't want to be. He took another bite and decided the orange stuff wasn't as good cold. Cam put down his fork and rolled back from the table, then reached for his tray. 

"I'll get that for you," Sheppard said.

"I'm good," Cam said, putting the tray in his lap.

"Listen," John said, his voice sounding strained. "You should hear from Major Lorne this week about re-certifying for marksmanship. I want you to learn the P-90, too."

"Sure thing, colonel," Cam said, rolling toward the kitchen before Sheppard would try to say something casual that really wasn't. Cam didn't want to hear it. At least the flirting had stopped. 

*****

John found himself in the chair again, the third time in as many days. McKay and Zelenka were hard at work in their labs trying to figure out what the thing was, and John staring at the display didn't help, but he wanted to see it again. Truth be told, he liked talking to the city. "Hi." He said aloud. "Can I see the system display we've been working on?"

 _Of course_. The display appeared. _Do you want the equations_?

"No, thanks," John said. "It's weird to look for something that isn't there and should be." Atlantis didn't answer. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

 _Not in celestial mechanics_. 

John closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to plot a course around whatever was exerting that gravitational pull. Then he opened them as another stray thought intruded. "What do you mean by 'not in celestial mechanics'? Have you seen this somewhere else?"

 _Not directly_. 

"What does that mean? Fluid mechanics?"

There was a beat before Atlantis answered. _Yes, in that once a locus of self-sustaining chaos is established, flow can often continue around it without being drawn into the localized turbulence. It is as if it is not there, other than to cause a momentary deviation from linear path._

"That's kind of what I was thinking," John said. "I was wondering what it would be like to try to pilot in that area."

 _Gateship compensation mechanisms would be taxed_ , Atlantis said. _In anticipation of your eventual visit, I have already created modified adaptation algorithms, but cannot incorporate them into the gateship computers without a link._

"You don't have WiFi?"

_It is sufficiently complex to be more efficient through direct connection._

"Never seen an Ethernet port." John said.

_Perhaps via one of your portable computers?_

John thought for a minute. "Could we put Cam's new interface into the jumpers, too, so I could talk to them?"

There was a very long pause. _Unknown._

John sat up, breaking the interface. "I have to go to work." If Atlantis answered, he didn’t hear it.

*****

Cam went through his routine with the Beretta, breaking it down and examining it before putting it back together. Even easier than riding a bicycle, he thought ruefully. He looked up at Major Lorne, who nodded. "Okay."

After two clips, Cam remembered why people got gun calluses. He also remembered why he liked shooting. Damn Sheppard for being right, about his body mechanics too. He'd lost more accuracy than just time away from the range would account for. 

"Want to try the P-90?" Lorne asked. "Col. Sheppard thinks you might find it handy. In the field we can clip it to our tac vests." Lorne turned the weapon to show him. "We could rig up something for you."

"You think the good colonel was expecting me to have to hold the computer lab."

Lorne looked at him, and handed him the weapon. "Have you read our reports?"

"Yeah," Cam said. "Just haven't lived through it, yet."

"Hope you don't, but it's better to be prepared. I've even got my botanist certified."

"He's on your field team," Cam objected.

Lorne smiled. "Yeah, but when the Genii were in the city, they damn sure weren't getting into the greenhouses if he could help it." He huffed a small laugh, "I made him evacuate anyway." He turned his attention back to Cam. "I don't even have to teach you. You just need practice. Let's try the P-90, and we can set up a regular time every other day."

Cam sighted down the P-90. "I don't need the 2-I-C to babysit me, though."

"I'll find someone. Check your email later."

"Thanks," Cam said, and hefted the heavy gun, already comfortable in his hands. "Can I, you know, give this baby a whirl?"

The P-90 was harder to aim, but it was _fun_.

*****

John walked into the shooting range a little after 22:00. Part of him wanted to go to the chair room, but he wondered if Rodney might be right. He liked the new chair interface a little bit too much. Instead of working off his nervous energy with math, this time he thought he should shoot things, among them, Cam Mitchell. And damn if Cam wasn't there already, breaking down a P-90 to clean it. A Beretta and its clip lay separately on a towel laid over his lap. John swallowed reflexively, and stood for a moment, watching, and then he felt like a stalker, so he said, "Hey."

Cam glanced up. "Hey," he said before turning his attention back to the P-90. "I'll be out of here in five."

"You don’t --" John started. He had his own triggers around gun oil and Cam Mitchell, it seemed.

"I do," Cam said.

John couldn't leave, and Cam didn't say anything else. John watched his sure hands reassemble the weapon, sight down the range one last time and then turn the wheels of his chair toward the armory. John had been avoiding Cam, and now he didn't want him to leave. "Wait."

Cam turned back. "Something I can do for you, Col. Sheppard?"

John grasped for a non-committal subject. "The, uh, the chair interface you've been working on. It works."

"Glad to hear it." Cam's face was carefully neutral. John remembered that face tilted up in abandon, remembered those lips…

John cleared his throat. "I've been talking with Atlantis."

"Do tell."

"You know that anomaly we've been tracking. The one the Wraith ships have been circling for the last six weeks?"

"I hear rumors."

"Well, I've about got Woolsey convinced we need to check it out."

Cam's eyebrows went up a fraction, but it looked to John like he was trying to hold his face still. "Have fun."

"Well, yeah, but I've been talking with Atlantis about how the gravitational pull is going to affect the puddle jumpers."

Cam's eyebrows went all the way up. "Talking with Atlantis?"

"Yeah. That's part of your interface, right?" Cam moved his head equivocally. "Anyway, the city said it has some algorithms for the jumpers that might help the compensation, but it needs a direct connection to the ship to download it. Maybe it can go through a laptop."

"Sneaker net," Cam said. John didn't know what that meant, and his face must have shown it. Cam smiled. "A network on sneakers rather than wires. You know. Physically carry the files." Cam shook his head, chuckling. "Geek humor."

John smiled, a little, but mostly he was trying not to notice what the grin on Cam’s face was doing to his composure. "Yeah, but you're a pilot, too. You'll have the best sense of how to install it and whether it's working."

"I'm not exactly rated on the gateships," Cam said, "and I don't have the gene."

"I know," John said. His palms were sweating, and the collar of his T-shirt felt too tight. Without quite meaning to he said, "I was wondering if you'd install it for me and go on a test flight. On the mission, too. I mean, you earned back Marksman in two weeks…"

Cam's mouth had dropped open. "Are you kidding me?"

John blinked. He had no idea if he could square it with Woolsey, but he'd try, and he wasn't kidding. A geek with pilot instincts was what he needed. "Nope."

Cam's face lit up, and he whooped, spinning his chair once and raising his arms while the momentum took him another half turn, the centripetal forces sliding the guns down his lap. He grabbed for them and looked back at John. "I'm so in."

"Great," John said, trying to sound casual, but his heart rate was up, and seeing Cam happy made him smile. "We'll debrief in the morning. McKay and Zelenka are going to want in on it, but McKay doesn't think you're a moron, so it should be okay."

"Great," Cam said. 

"Okay then." John turned to leave then turned back. "Talk to you later."

"Sure thing."

John got half way down the corridor. He hadn't seen anyone, just the regular guard outside the armory door. He stopped, and not really knowing what he was doing, he turned back. Cam was still on the range, sitting and smiling, his chin on his hands. John watched him for a long moment before stepping all the way through the door. Cam looked up at the movement.

John was nearly vibrating, and his voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else. "Want to come have a beer to celebrate?"

Cam went very still. "What are we celebrating?"

"Re-certifying?" John said, sounding in his own ears like he was making excuses.

Cam's voice was very careful. "Since when does the military commander take such personal notice?"

John took a deep breath. "Old friend." He looked around the room, even though he knew no one else was there.

"Okay. Let me put these away."

Cam rolled into the armory to replace the weapons. John didn't move. He felt rooted to the spot, still not sure of what he was doing. 

Cam rolled back. "Lead on," he said. 

_What was I thinking?_ John thought, but then he relaxed. What the hell. He'd never had a chance to get to know Cam Mitchell back at Maxwell. Too busy getting each other off, back then. It was just a beer.

*****

They made the trip, corridor to transporter to corridor, in silence. Cam wasn't sure what Sheppard was doing. They could have a beer and that would be that. It had been 15 years, and even back then they hadn't exactly talked much. 

Sheppard's room was much smaller than Cam expected, the same size as Cam's. Sheppard seemed to realize that there wasn't much space to maneuver. He reached into a small fridge and pulled out two bottles. "You want to have these outdoors? There's a balcony down the hall."

"Sure." Well, that made it clear that this was just about the beer, but at least Sheppard wasn't acting squirrely. Cam moved himself to the side to let Sheppard out the door, then followed him down the hall. The balcony was not just down the hall, but a few turns away, taking them out of the residential area. Cam parked his chair at the door and reached for his crutches. The view would be better if he could stand and see over the railing.

Sheppard waited just outside the door, a breeze catching his ridiculous hair, his fingers threaded around the necks of the two beer bottles and his eyebrows up in question. "Need to stretch my legs," Cam said, and it was true. "Can't let myself lose what I got left." He pushed himself up, threaded his hands through the cuffs and walked out to the railing, trusting Sheppard would follow. He looked out over the night sea. There were enough lights from Atlantis that the sky wasn't too visible, but Cam could see that it was overcast. Behind the clouds he could see bright spots from two different moons. Alien fucking planet.

Sheppard handed him a beer. "What's so funny?"

Cam reached for it, letting the crutch dangle from his forearm. "I'm still grooving on the fact that I'm here. After that crash, I figured I was headed back to Kansas to be fussed over by Mama."

"Fate worse than death," Sheppard said, holding out his beer. Cam clinked their bottle necks together. "To a recertified Marksman." They drank and Sheppard said, "So you like it here?"

"Yep. You're going to have to use a crowbar if you want to get me out of here."

Sheppard leaned on the railing and looked out over the water. "You haven't seen it get bad. Other than those Wraith cruisers looking at our anomaly, it's been pretty quiet."

"Lorne's team coming in hot was quiet?" Cam said, but he knew better. Some of the mission reports had given him nightmares, especially the ones with video, and he was sure a lot of stuff never made it into the AAR. His own reports had always been a sketch of what really happened.

"You heard about that?" John asked. "That was nothing."

"Yeah," Cam said. "Yeah, I know."

Sheppard looked at him and nodded once. "You've seen plenty of action."

"Wouldn't mind seeing more," Cam said, looking Sheppard in the eye. "You're serious about taking me with you?"

Sheppard swallowed and looked back at the water. "It may take a bit to square it with Woolsey, but hell, the jumpers have ramps."

"Even if he says no," Cam said, "thanks for asking." He'd hate it, having this hope held out and then dashed by someone who wasn't willing to see what he could do, only what he couldn't.

"Don't mention it," Sheppard said. "I wasn't kidding about that modification to the jumper software that Atlantis came up with. You want to see it?"

"Sure." Cam wasn't sure what Sheppard was thinking. _Let's go on the balcony. Let's go to the computer lab._ He wasn't ready for Sheppard to say, "Let's go to the chair room."

"With beer?"

Sheppard shrugged. "We can finish them first."

They talked of nothing, when they talked, not hurrying through the beer, and by the time Cam was down to the last inch, his legs hurt. He downed the last bit and held his bottle out to Sheppard. "You about done?" Sheppard nodded and took the bottle, and Cam turned to make his way back to where Beulah was waiting outside the doorway. He got himself situated, and looked up. Sheppard was still at the railing, watching him. Cam rolled out. He was suddenly tired, and didn't want to go to the chair room. He liked being with Sheppard, and if he was tired, he'd let something slip. "You sure about this?" he asked. "Not usually a good idea to drink and code."

Sheppard looked almost relieved. "Probably not. It's about 23:00, and I've got a mission tomorrow."

"G'night, then," Cam said. "Thanks for the beer. Let's do this again sometime, and not wait for me to make Sharpshooter. Next one's on me."

"Thanks," Sheppard said, and Cam couldn't read his face in the light from the open doorway, but he suspected he wouldn't be able to read it even under a spotlight.

*****

Richard looked up at Sheppard and Zelenka. "You're sure about this."

"Dr. Zelenka here agrees, and even Rodney isn't arguing."

"It _has_ been several weeks," Richard admitted, "and if you're cloaked you can get past them. It's also important to know why they're so interested in this thing that isn't there."

"Oh," said Zelenka, "it is there. Most assuredly. The question is what _it_ is."

"And you think Dr. Mitchell is critical to the mission?"

Richard watched Zelenka look at Sheppard and Sheppard not look back before speaking. "I think so. If I have trouble with the jumper, he can handle dealing with the new software."

"Dr. Zelenka," Richard said, keeping himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. "You concur?"

"Absolutely. Dr. Mitchell has, well, er, noticed things about the Ancients' software systems that we did not quite see. It opens many interesting avenues."

"All right." Richard sighed only after he'd said the words.

"So we have a go?"

He looked up. If Zelenka was willing, even asking to go, it couldn't be that dangerous.

"You have a go, colonel."

*****

John sat in the chair. "Hey," he said.

There was a delay, and then Atlantis answered. _John Sheppard. Do you wish to review the anomaly again?_

"No," John said. He wasn't quite sure why he was there. He looked at the location of the Wraith cruiser and the hive ship. The hive ship had moved off from the anomaly, and the cruiser closer. There didn't seem to be a pattern to the Wraith movements. 

_Is there any analysis you wish me to undertake?_

"We're going to go there," John told the city. It didn’t answer. "Want me to bring you back a souvenir?" He felt for a moment like he was on an awkward date. He enjoyed working with the city, but as far as the anomaly went, there wasn't anything more to talk about, and he could make conversation about the new problem with the power relays in the West tower, but there wasn't any need.

 _Would you like to review potential trajectories?_ Atlantis said.

John felt relieved. "Let's do that."

*****

Cam reached down to touch the Beretta in the holster strapped to his calf. The P-90s were in a weapon's cabinet on board, but damn if he didn't have a sidearm. Sheppard had insisted, even though this was supposed to be a look-see mission, and had fast-tracked Cam through the standard mission trainings, staring down anyone who looked like they might comment.

He also had a tac vest. McKay had loftily given the list of things to make sure you were taking on a mission, but Cam pretty much relied on instinct: Calories, repair kits, and ammo. He didn't expect to need any of it, but it made him feel better. He missed a number of things about being in the Air Force, and one of them was that sense of, what had the counselors called it? _Self efficacy._ Funny how a gun made him feel whole, when he'd been a pilot more than anything. 

Zelenka paced him, pausing just outside the door. "After you," he said, smiling.

Cam had been in the jumper bay plenty of times in the last few days, installing the new programming and watching McKay check it over. This time he was going up the ramp for a mission, geared up, with a role to play as part of a team, without the haircut and the stupid rules about who you could sleep with. So what if it was only a test drive?

Sheppard stood in the open arch at the back of the jumper. "Welcome aboard," he said as Cam pushed himself up the ramp. 

McKay looked over from an open panel. "I've got a tablet hooked up to monitor everything. It's got the backup of the original software."

"And I've got a second copy," Cam said, patting a pocket on his tac vest before taking the tablet from McKay. The cables effectively tethered him to the spot, so he locked his brakes.

Sheppard and McKay took the pilot and co-pilot seats. Cam pushed down a flash of jealousy. Gene therapy hadn't taken with him, and there was no way he'd ever be able to fly one of these babies. He turned his head when Sheppard called up the HUD. "Jumper 3 ready," he radioed. The jumper bay brightened as the tower opened, and they rose out into the brilliance of the sky. 

Cam watched the readout on the tablet. As much as he wanted to watch the take off, he was here to do a job. The inertial dampening systems were functioning normally. Everything seemed fine. The differences in the software wouldn't show up until they tested it against the gravitational anomaly, but this was just the run to make sure it worked under normal circumstances.

"How's it looking back there?" Sheppard asked. 

"All is well," Zelenka answered. He had a parallel display, wireless from the tablet in Cam's lap. Since he knew normal parameters better than Cam, he was on point for monitoring. Cam's job was to swap out the software if there was a problem, but he didn't like the idea of trying to do it when they were still inside the atmosphere. Out in space it would be fine if they cut the drives.

Sheppard took them up, following the plan to get straight out into space where they could try some maneuvers. Once they were up, McKay came back. "I'll, um, take over the monitoring. Col. Sheppard thought you might want to look out the window."

Cam tried not to show the thrill that ran through him. He handed over the tablet, loosed his brakes, and moved up behind the pilots' seats, right in the middle.

"So far, so good," Sheppard said. "Like the view?"

"Oh, yeah," Cam breathed. Something in his chest opened up, and he let out the grin he wouldn't let McKay see.

Sheppard smiled back at him. "It gets better." He turned the puddle jumper and brought the planet into view. They were close enough that it filled almost the entire viewport. 

"Oh man," Cam said. Sheppard glanced over his shoulder. "This is…" Cam took his gaze off the blue planet to look into Sheppard's eyes. He saw Sheppard swallow, but he didn't look away. "Thank you," Cam said.

"Don't mention it."

"Yes, yes," McKay said. "Sightseeing over. Important work waiting in the lab while we test drive. So test. Drive."

"Hold your horses, Rodney," John said. "Ready?" 

Cam grinned. "Let's see what she's got."

Sheppard let it rip, looping, stopping, pushing the puddle jumper and its crazy drive physics. The stars wheeled by, the planet and one of the moons, coming in and out of view with dizzying speed. Cam felt like he should feel something on this rollercoaster ride, but the inertial dampeners kept up. "Man, that's weird."

"Yeah," Sheppard said. "I don't usually get to play like that. Some of those moves pulled 10 gees, and it's like sitting in your living room."

"Kind of disappointing and kind of awesome at the same time." Sheppard nodded, lips twisting into a rueful expression that someone else might read as a smirk. Only another pilot would really understand, and Cam felt once more the pang that he'd never get to fly anything ever again.

Sheppard straightened up suddenly, tapping the earpiece of his radio, the reaching out to a control. Suddenly a voice could be heard, "—this is control. Come in jumper three."

"Sheppard here. We're not due to check in for another ten."

"Col. Sheppard, one of the Wraith ships has disappeared."

Sheppard glanced back, but his eyes were looking past Cam for McKay. Cam moved himself back as McKay came forward, and took the monitoring station, nearly falling out of his chair as he bent to pick up the dropped tablet. "What do you mean disappeared?" McKay said as he sat down and called up a new display.

"We should have been watching them," Sheppard said. 

"We were cloaked!" McKay said. "And we're too far away. I don't think this has anything to do with us. Explain," McKay demanded at the radio voice.

"The cruiser circled closer to the anomaly, and disappeared."

"Probably went through the cloak," McKay muttered. "We need to go check it out."

"Now?" Zelenka said.

"Look, if whatever is hidden behind that cloak is valuable—a weapon, maybe," John started.

"We can't let the Wraith just take it without knowing what it is," McKay finished.

"Atlantis," John said, "we're going to go find out what's going on over there."

Woolsey's voice answered. "Are you sure about this? What if you can't break back out of the gravitational pull."

"We've calculated it," McKay said. "The jumper can handle it."

Cam listened to the exchange, holding himself very still. The test drive was turning into a real mission, and he was on it. Part of him wondered if he should be scared, but mostly he was just excited, tension running down his legs, fingertips nearly vibrating on the edge of the tablet.

"Crew?" Sheppard said.

Zelenka nodded, visibly nervous, but he said, "At least we will get a closer look."

"Cam? This is probably just a drive through." Sheppard's eyebrows were pulled together.

"I'm good," Cam said. "Don't you worry about me."

"Okay. Sheppard turned back "Atlantis, do we have a go?"

"Reconnaissance, colonel," Woolsey's voice said. "Stay cloaked."

"Just in case, have Lorne and a team of Marines gear up and meet us out there in a jumper. If we do have to land, I'm going to want backup."

"Agreed, Col. Sheppard, but try not to have to land." Even over the radio, Cam could hear Woolsey sounding like a long-suffering parent, and he had to smile.

"You think this is fun?" Zelenka asked him, his voice pitched so that Sheppard and McKay wouldn't hear it. Cam looked at him, and the nervousness had an edge to it that Cam didn't understand. "You have not seen these things," Zelenka said, his voice intent.

"I know," Cam said, Zelenka's seriousness pulling apart some of the joy he felt.

"I have seen too many come here and say that and not really know."

Cam didn't argue. The videos were bad enough. Still, being out and in the middle of things? Yes.

They made the trip in relative quiet, speaking only when needed. The hive ship came into view, and Cam couldn't quite tell how big it was, since there was nothing to compare it to. He looked back at the tablet and glanced at Zelenka. They were close enough that the gateship was starting to have to compensate for the gravitational anomaly. He watched the screen in front of him rather than look over Sheppard's shoulder to the view screen. This was where it got important. 

"All right," said McKay. "I can't read any energy, but that's probably because it's cloaked. What I don't know is if it's shielded. Can you take us closer?"

"I don't want to bump into it, Rodney."

"Just keep easing it forward. I'll tell you when to stop."

"All right. Cam? Radek? Everything good on your end?"

"Yes," Zelenka said, glancing at Cam. Cam nodded. 

After a few tense moments, McKay said, "Okay, wait. We're flying blind here."

"You're telling me," Sheppard said.

"Try going backwards," McKay said. "Quick burst."

"You're going to use the engine energy like a radar?"

"Exactly."

"Call it," Sheppard said.

"On my mark," McKay said. "I need to set the sensors up." Cam heard a few moments of humming. "Ready?"

"Ready, Rodney."

"Now!"

Cam couldn't feel anything, of course, but he braced, not taking his eyes off the tablet.

"You get anything?" Sheppard asked.

"Oh, yes. Genius here. One more time, just to confirm."

"Let me get closer," Shepard said, and then a moment later, "Ready."

"Now." McKay hummed for another long moment. "Radek!"

"Yes, Rodney."

"Come look at this. I have an idea and it will go faster if you take part of it."

Cam listened with half an ear to the plan, which had something to do with matching shield energies and moving through the cloak. The keyed-up feeling was increasing with the wait. "Anything I can do?"

McKay looked up and blinked, as if he'd forgotten Cam was there. "What? No. Working."

Cam looked at Sheppard, who shrugged, and then got out of his chair. "We're parked until they figure out what they want to do. You okay?"

"Getting bored of sitting on the edge of doing something."

Sheppard gave him a half-smile. "You don't miss that military _hurry up and wait_?" Cam snorted. Sheppard crouched next to him so they were eye to eye. "Seriously, are you ready? This was kind of meant to be a 3-hour tour."

"Sheppard," Cam says, feeling himself settle under Sheppard's gaze. "One word. Afghanistan."

They had both been there, and they had both been shot down on missions that officially never happened, and in Sheppard's case wasn't even sanctioned. Sheppard's mouth tightened, his full lips morphing into a steel line, and a muscle in his jaw jumped. Cam wanted to smooth it, but he kept his hands down, and his eyes on Sheppard's face as he nodded in several tense shakes of his head. As he rose, he put his hand on Cam's shoulder and squeezed.

The impression of Sheppard's fingers stayed warm for several long minutes. It was the first time he'd touched Cam since he'd arrived, and one of a handful of times he'd ever touched him in public. Cam found his own fingers reaching up to his shoulder, looking at the back of Sheppard's head in the pilot's chair, that ridiculous hair sticking up. He opened up a new window on the tablet, but there wasn't anything he could work on, so he opened Codebreaker and started to play.

After his fifth game Zelenka came back. "We will do part of this manually, so we need you to watch the jumper to make sure it can still adapt to the anomaly."

"Sure," Cam said. "What are we doing?"

"Matching shield harmonics to get through. Then we will see what the Wraith were so interested in finding."

Cam nodded, closing the window on his game and giving the full screen to the jumper readouts. McKay and Zelenka called out to each other, making adjustments until everything was ready, and then Sheppard eased them forward. There was a jolt that not even the inertial dampeners could handle, and Beulah's wheels left the deck for a moment. That got Cam's attention. If the gateship could pull ten g without a hitch, these forces must be something else.

"Everyone okay?" Sheppard called. 

"Yep."

Zelenka picked himself off the floor. "I'm fine."

"We're almost through," McKay said. "This shield is about three hundred meters thick. Whatever is creating this has a lot of power." Over his shoulder Cam could see swirls of grey light, pulsating and strange, as if the grey he could see was light being absorbed and dampened.

There was another jolt a minute later, and then they were through into blackness. There was no light at all outside the jumper. The front view screen was entirely black.

"McKay?" Sheppard said, his voice tense.

"No light here, but energy. A lot of energy. Our regular sensors are working. Let me see if I can create a pseudoimage." An outline began to appear, orange lines and dots creating a shape. "Wait a minute," McKay said. New colors began to appear. "Okay, shades of yellow to red are heat, with red being hotter. Green to blue is…" McKay trailed off. 

"Rodney?" Sheppard said sharply.

"It's like a million ZPMs."

"What?" Zelenka said, walking forward to look over McKay's shoulder. "That can't be possible. There is enough energy here to take out the entire system."

"And more," McKay said. "But I don't see where the gravity is coming from."

"This," Zelenka said. "We have never seen this before, but I recognize it. From the _theory_."

"Oh my God," McKay breathed.

"What is it?" Sheppard asked.

"Space is, well, _folded_ ," Zelenka said.

"What do you mean, folded?"

"He means folded," McKay snapped. "In on itself. It's denser than is possible because it's the density of an entire planetoid in about ten percent of the space."

"Okay," Sheppard drawled. "Look, before you two freak out over the origami, can those sensors find the Wraith cruiser?" Cam laughed quietly to himself. 

"Yes, yes," McKay said. "It's there. Hang on."

Folded space. Cam nodded to himself, double checking the readings on the tablet. The jumper was compensating just fine. At least one thing was going right, because space? Folded? That was awesome and weird. He wanted to look at McKay's readings, but he had a job to do. 

Sheppard waited only a few beats before asking McKay, "What do we have here?"

"We have a planetoid crammed into less than a tenth of the space it should occupy. Some of it is in normal space, and there's a building on it. Definitely Ancient. I have Wraith life signs, both on the cruiser and in the building."

"What is this place?" Sheppard asked.

"I have a theory, and normally this would make me a very happy man, but with Wraith in the vicinity, I'm just annoyed we didn't stop and pick up a couple of empties," McKay said.

"Rodney! Empty whats? What's the theory?"

McKay blinked and looked up. "I think this is where they charged the zero point modules. The building reads like a factory. There's breathable atmosphere."

"The planetoid is slowly, well, unfolding," Zelenka said. "I don't know how they did it originally, but the potential energy stored is tremendous. Harnessed carefully…"

"ZPMs. I get it," Sheppard said. "Wraith having them is bad. I get that, too. We're going in there. We're going to put it on a timer to blow, and get back and fly the city the hell away from here before it does."

"Are you kidding?!" McKay said. "That may be the only way to recharge a ZPM!"

"Are you forgetting?" Sheppard said, his voice low and fierce, scarier than if he'd yelled. "Wraith with ZPMs is not a good thing. Remember that cloning facility?" Cam remembered reading about it. That was one of the reports that he'd tried not to dwell on.

McKay looked at Sheppard, his mouth opening and then closing a couple of times, like he wanted to argue. Cam expected him to argue, but within a couple of seconds his mouth closed tight and he nodded once. "I'll find us a place to land." 

"We are going in there?" Zelenka asked. "With Wraith?"

"You're staying with the jumper, Radek."

"But I cannot fly it." Cam felt for Zelenka. He was clearly not happy, but holding it together. 

"Doc," Sheppard said, "we need someone on radio. Remember I asked Woolsey to send in a second jumper with Lorne. Someone is going to have to explain to them how to get through the cloak."

"Colonel," Zelenka said, "this area is shielded. No radio transmission will get out."

"Right," Sheppard said, but to Cam's ears it sounded more like a lot of swear words.

"Rodney, what if you drop us, take the jumper to let Lorne's people in…"

"Hey," Cam said. "Just turn around, go outside the cloak, transmit the information, and come back in." Cam felt foolish as all three turned to look at him. They'd forgotten he was there. "You can let Atlantis know what's here."

McKay shook his head, but he said, "Of course." He looked at Sheppard, seeming to ask a question without words..

"All right," Sheppard said, answering it. Cam made a note to ask him about it later, when they got back. "Hang on for a repeat of that bumpy ride."

It took only moments, it seemed, to transit the shield again. Woolsey didn't argue about the necessity of destroying the facility, and volunteered that they would start securing the city for takeoff. 

Cam began to really understand that this wasn't their first rodeo. He felt useless and out of step, and no one had said anything about what he would do when they landed on the planetoid—stay with the gateship or go with them. He wanted to go with them. There had to be something useful he could do.

He grabbed his own laptop from where it was Velcroed to the back of his chair, another of McKay's suggestions. Propping the tablet where he could keep an eye on it, he fired up his Ancient emulator and got to work. He heard Sheppard inform them that they were crossing the shield barrier again, and Cam paused, holding on to tablet and laptop as his chair bounced an inch off the deck, and then getting back to work. He paid no attention to the landing, and only glanced up when Sheppard said, "Okay, Rodney. Gear up. P-90. Extra clips." Cam glanced out the view screen. McKay's pseudoimage showed a building with classic Ancient lines only visible by the light coming out of an open door. The light also illuminated another small ship out front. The rest of the building that the light couldn't reach ended in in the pseudoimage in a haze of swirling energies, as if chaos itself rose behind it. That had to be the folded part of the planetoid. 

He recognized the small ship from the reports he'd read. Wraith dart.

"Okay," Sheppard was saying to Rodney. "First thing we do is disable that dart. We can't have any ZPMs getting into Wraith hands if we can help it. If we blow it before we go in, we might as well ring the doorbell. I'll rig it with C4, and we'll leave a radio detonator with Zelenka. Doc, you only fire it if it looks like they're trying to leave."

"Understood."

"Wanna get me one of those P-90s?" Cam asked, trying to sound completely casual.

"Sure," Sheppard said, "but I don't think it's likely you'll need to shoot anything. We're cloaked, and the Wraith won't see you're even here."

"I'm going with," Cam said, bracing himself to argue.

McKay didn't even speak to him, but to Sheppard. "That's impossible. It's like taking R2D2. What if there are stairs?"

"Actually," Cam said, holding out a connector, "it's exactly like taking R2D2. I'm going to get into their computer systems."

They both turned toward him, Sheppard's face so carefully neutral Cam knew he was holding in at least six strong feelings. "Tell me what you're thinking."

It was an opening, not an argument, so Cam dove in. "I've already written a program that will hide a command so that the Wraith won't find it, even if they're familiar with Ancient systems. We'll need hours to get out of here, get back to the city and get the city off the planet. We need time, and we need to know it will blow when we're gone."

John's head moved back a bit, tilting his chin up. Cam raised his eyebrows back at him. "I've got the bones of the program. I can fill in the details on the ground. Ancient computers are modular, so it won't be hard. McKay, you can't rig this thing and code it from scratch, both. If this place is like Atlantis, I'll be able to get around. Let me help."

Sheppard's answer was to reach into the weapons cabinet and toss Cam a P-90. He underhanded spare clips into Cam's lap, then dug into his tac vest and handed McKay a PowerBar. "Eat, Rodney." Scowling, McKay took it. 

Sheppard then pointed toward a small box. "Here's the trigger for the C4. I'll put it on the pilot's seat. Please don't pick it up until we've set the charges." He grinned at Zelenka. "Just in case."

Cam clipped his P-90 to his tac vest as he watched Sheppard walk up to the front of the jumper to leave the trigger. He was taught, like a bowstring, but instead of coming off as tense, the lines of his back seemed held ready. Even McKay seemed calm and ready. Definitely not their first rodeo, and Cam hoped he wouldn't be the dink.

Sheppard's walked to the back of the ship, hit the button that opened the ramp, and indicated the exit with his head. "Come on, Artoo."

"Never living that one down, am I?"

Sheppard's grin was tight. "No." 

Cam unlocked his wheels and rolled himself down the ramp, favoring Sheppard with a glare that he didn't really mean. The ground was smooth and bare, not much harder to move on than a regular floor. He followed Sheppard and McKay to the dart, keeping lookout as they set the charges. Sheppard gave a thumbs up in the direction of the now-invisible jumper, and loped toward the building entrance. 

There was a ramp up to the open door. Sheppard and McKay stopped on either side of it, nodded to each other, and then faded through the door, guns up. At a signal from Sheppard, Cam spun himself across the open ground, up the ramp, and into the building.

"You see anything you can hook up to?" Sheppard asked in a low voice. 

Cam took a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the bright lights. This looked like an anteroom. He shook his head. They moved down a corridor past labs and conference rooms before spotting one that looked like a control room. Cam nodded to Sheppard. "I can work with this. Let me make sure you can get to it from everywhere." Cam started to work on the consoles, but they stayed dark. "Sheppard, I'm going to need your gene for this." He glanced up. 

Sheppard nodded to McKay, who took over guarding the doorway, and walked over. Cam pointed to a hand-sized flat square. Sheppard put his palm on it, long fingers splayed, and the panel initialized. Cam tried a few test commands, and the console responded. He started to hook up his laptop.

"Cam," Sheppard said. "Before you go into your geek run."

"Sorry," Cam said, feeling the blood leave his face. He'd forgotten for a moment where they were.

"You need to be able to see the door, and you need to be out of sight from anyone walking down the hall. Will another one of these consoles work?" Cam nodded, scanning the room to pick his place. He gathered his cables and rolled over to it, glancing at Sheppard, who nodded. "Keep your ears open, and your weapon where you can get to it. Don't radio unless you have to. If you see Wraith, hide and click your mic three times so we know we have some behind us."

"Twice if they're heading out?" Cam said. "They might leave." 

Sheppard nodded. "And if you have to shoot one?"

"Start with the head and empty the clip into the body," Cam finished.

Sheppard gave him that twisted half-smile. "Unless there's more than one. Save some bullets for the second one."

"Got it."

"Wait for us here when you're done."

Cam nodded.

Sheppard walked back to the door. He and McKay shared a wordless signal, and left down the hall. Cam went to work, glancing up every few lines. The code flowed, even when he heard distant gunfire, adrenaline doing more for him than coffee ever could. He was almost finished when he heard Zelenka's voice in his ear. "Another dart has landed."

Cam input the last bits, pulled out the cable and tapped his radio. "Done," he said quietly. 

"Got it," Mckay said. "I need ten more minutes to refine the parameters. Can you download as much data as possible? Look for anything on how they did this."

Cam grunted assent and wired the laptop back in, found the general area of files they wanted and started downloading, eyes on the doorway and only straying occasionally to the computer on the floor. When heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway, he brought his P-90 up into the position he’d worked out with Lorne back at the firing range. As his arms took its weight, he felt his heart rate slow and his breathing even out.

Fucking _finally_ , he thought, and then they were there, armored, white-haired and taller than he’d imagined. One paused outside the door, and Cam backed himself behind the console, hands slick on his wheels. He tapped his radio three times. 

"Can you slow them down?" McKay said in his ear.

"Belay that!" Sheppard's voice sounded. "Cam, stay put!"

 _To hell with that,_ Cam thought. He moved to the door and bent to look out. The Wraith were about 30 feet down the hall, their backs to him. There was a doorway opposite the room he was in, so he backed up a good fifteen feet to give himself a running start, and then let momentum take him as he picked up his P-90, took a vague sideways aim and emptied it down the hall. 

It was just like a strafing run, and he quickly suppressed the urge to whoop in triumph, turning around and changing clips as soon as he reached the sanctuary of the second room. By this time, though, the Wraith had turned and were running toward him, one of them only ten feet away when Cam started firing again. The bullets threw the Wraith backwards, bluish green ichor spraying from its throat onto the one behind it. Cam fired into its bone-covered face.

As the echoes of the shots died away he heard Sheppard's voice in his ear. "What the hell are you doing?"

Before he could answer his momentum took him back into the control room, and he dropped his weapon to hang from its clip on his vest as he grabbed his wheels to turn. Another Wraith was coming after him, and the clip on the P-90 was empty. Cam grabbed his Beretta from the leg holster and fired three shots into the thing's head. It fell at his feet, hand extended, the feeding mouth a gaping slash in its palm. Cam froze, heart suddenly racing in his ears, looking at the tangle of white hair and the wrong-colored blood spreading over the floor.

His right eye stung, and he swiped at it, leaving a blue-green stain on his hand. He tapped his radio. "That should buy you some time."

"By this point the whole hive knows we're here," Sheppard said. "Get back to the jumper."

"Don't forget the laptop!" McKay's voice broke in.

"Right," Cam said. He picked up the computer and unplugged it, stowing the cables and re-attaching it to its Velcro harness. He changed the clip on the P-90, and turned back to the door, only to find that he didn't have a path to get out. The Wraith's body filled the door way. There was no way Cam could move it, and no other exit. He tapped his radio. "You're going to have to pick me up on the way out," he said, keeping his voice light. "Doorway's blocked."

"How? What happened?" Sheppard said. 

"Dead Wraith." Cam wanted to laugh. Too many feelings were surging through him with elation that he'd killed the Wraith and fear that he was trapped bookending the spectrum.

"Wait for us. Do you have enough ammo?"

"Two more clips, and fourteen rounds in the Beretta."

"Okay. Take cover," Sheppard said. "Aim."

"Understood," Cam said, and he moved behind a bank of consoles. If he stretched his head up he could see, and he could hear. He checked his watch to mark the time. If he didn't have contact from Sheppard in ten minutes, he'd radio, but in the meantime it was better to keep quiet. 

He had to stop himself from tapping his feet, so he stretched his legs out in front of him, working his ankles until his thigh muscles complained. He rubbed them absently and then stopped, wondering whether he'd really heard something or if it had been the ringing in his ears from the weapons. No, he'd heard something coming from the outside again, something lighter and more numerous than the Wraith. He waited, barely breathing, until the footsteps stopped and he heard, in clear English, "Well, that's two down." 

It was Major Lorne. Why hadn't Zelenka radioed to say the reinforcements had come in?

"In here," Cam called, moving from behind the console. "You mind moving the roadblock there?"

Lorne looked at him, his eyes flaring wider for a half second as he took in Cam, which made him wonder just how much Wraith blood was on him.

Two Marines grabbed the Wraith's arms and dragged it across the hall to the other room. Lorne said, "What's the situation?"

"Sheppard and McKay are doing something back thataway," Cam said, indicating the further reaches of the building. 

Lorne tapped his radio. "Col. Sheppard, I'm here with Kappa group. We have Dr. Mitchell."

"Good," Sheppard said. "We're almost on our way, aren't we, Rodney?" he added in a goading tone. Cam couldn't hear whatever McKay responded.

"Barnes," Lorne said, "go with Dr. Mitchell and get out of here. If these two are dead, the rest of their hive will know it, and there may be more company soon."

Zelenka's voice broke in, "There are two more darts, and one deposited six drones from the culling beam before landing."

"That means ten," Lorne muttered. "Drag the other body into one of the rooms," he ordered. "We'll wait for them here. Try to let them get past these doorways, if they don't sense us, and then we'll take them from behind. Ayala, McKenzie, Dolan, Reno. Take those two doorways down there. Don't let them get past you, and if they do, tell Sheppard immediately." He turned to Cam. "If we drop bodies between here and the door, you're going to have to let someone get you out of here."

Cam nodded. "We can't forget the laptop if that happens."

"Understood," Lorne said. "Barnes, you're with Dr. Mitchell. You hear that bit about the laptop?"

Barnes nodded, and Cam recognized the freckles from his first day in the city. He grinned up at him. "Son, you have my explicit permission to push me the hell out of here." He hefted the P-90. "Just don't get in the way of my aim."

In seconds they were all in position, flat against the walls, and Cam heard the heavy tread of Wraith boots. They stopped outside the door, and Cam watched as one walked in. It didn't look like the drones he'd killed. It had on a long coat, and tattoos instead of the bone mask covered its face and neck. It looked around the room, not seeing them, and then stepped all the way in. 

One of the Marines dropped it with three shots directly to the back of its skull, but he'd turned his back to the door when he did it. Cam saw a white arm grab the man and yank him out of the room while two other Wraith charged in. After that it was noise and chaos. Cam wanted to help, but he couldn't get a shot. In a few moments it was over, and Lorne was shouting, "Move!" at Barnes. Cam hated being pushed, but speed mattered more, and he brought up his P-90 to the ready. There was radio chatter in his ear, Lorne's and Sheppard's voices, and then Zelenka. "Another dart. Six drones and two others."

"Barnes!" Cam shouted. "Stop a minute. Listen to me. That doorway, there!" They were only a few doors from the entrance.

The chair turned and Cam could feel Barnes's head next to his. "What?"

"I can strafe them. It's what I did to those other two. You go high, I'll go low." He explained what he meant, and Barnes chuckled. They got themselves set and listened for boots, and as soon as they heard them, Barnes shoved Cam's chair and ran behind him, shooting over Cam's head as Cam took aim at the bodies. When they reached the other side, Barnes took a quick look, and they did it again. Cam turned himself around, and Barnes looked out, drawing back quickly as he was fired on. "How many did we get?"

"About half."

"Round two?" Cam grinned. The Wraith were closer this time, and one strafing run was all they could do, Cam's wheels sending the brass from spent shells spinning around them, slowing them down. They couldn't get deep into the room before three drones followed them in. Cam spun to face them, but the P-90 was empty and he didn't have time to change clips or draw. The Wraith were marked with that blue-green blood, but they were all moving like they were barely injured. Cam watched one raise a weapon, and felt like he was being electrocuted before everything went black.

*****

Cam came to in the infirmary. He had a hell of a headache and his mouth was dry. "Hello?"

Someone in scrubs came over. Asian. Female. That was about the best Cam could do. "You're awake," she said.

"Yep. What… what happened? Are we okay?"

"The city is in hyperspace. I don't know why, but we had an emergency re-location."

"So we made it," Cam sighed. "Anyone else hurt? How long was I out?"

"Dolan, but he'll be okay. You've been here about three hours."

Cam settled back into the bed. The nurse had come in equipped with ice chips, but no one else was going to come and talk to him for a while. Sheppard would be in the control chair, and McKay would be trying to run everything else by sheer force of will. "How long am I in for?" He tipped the ice into his mouth, nearly groaning as cool water slid down his throat.

"Wraith stuns are an automatic twelve hours of observation. You need anything?"

He was starting to feel better, and he put a name to the nurse. "Water, food, and a laptop, Amanda. That's be great."

"I can do that. Any specific laptop? We have a few in the infirmary for email and network access. We have priority access to the movie server."

"That'd be fine," Cam said. If he could get on the network, he could get where he needed to be.

A few minutes later he had a sandwich and water, and a generic laptop. It didn't take him long to get into the server, into his back door, and into his program for the chair interface. Sheppard was in the room, eyes closed. Cam checked the diagnostics and checked for audio in the last two hours. Sheppard had spoken to Atlantis aloud, but the city hadn't answered.

Cam debated for a long moment. He typed in the words, _Hello, John Sheppard._

*****

John settled into the long haul of piloting the city. The rush of adrenaline had given out a while ago, but Keller had given him a stimulant. Otherwise he could probably have napped, given that Atlantis wasn't due to exit hyperspace for another two hours, but he'd actually been looking forward to spending the time talking to the city. He wanted to tell it about what they had found inside the anomaly, to see if there were any records of what had been done there. Atlantis hadn't answered.

At least they'd rescued three ZPMs and an uncharged drone before they left the facility. John had taken the city off planet, into a short hyperspace jump, and then they'd waited 60 parsecs away to make sure the facility had blown. It had been spectacular, even from a distance, and McKay had said they were even on the whole _destroying a solar system_ thing, but John didn't think it was the same. He certainly didn't expect he'd be able to explosively unfold space any time soon.

He took a breath. With the stimulant in his brain and no one to talk with, his mind was whirling around too many subjects, one of which was Cam Mitchell. Lorne and Barnes had a hell of a story, and it made him glad he'd had everyone gear up, glad that Mitchell had re-rated on the weapons. Mostly he was glad that Mitchell hadn't lost his fighter pilot instincts, even if it had been stupid. Of course, there was more there, more that he didn't want to touch, and he couldn't find anything to distract himself. That stupid fucking chin and those full lips, and that damned cocky fly-boy attitude, which hadn't gone away when he'd been permanently grounded. 

_Hello, John Sheppard_

The voice in his head, the city’s neutral tones, startled him a bit.

"Where you been?" he asked. There was no answer. "What, you can't launch and talk at the same time?"

_I was delayed._

"I thought you were the whole city." 

_That is not a precise interpretation. Also, this interface was not required for launch._

"Only here for the anomalies, huh?"

_Perhaps._

John wasn't sure what to make of it, but he spent a few moments considering the options. There was only one good explanation. "So, do you want to hear about my day?"

_The data from the jumpers have been uploaded to the records systems._

"That wasn't my question."

_If you would like to augment the records with a narrative, that would be agreeable._

"You're a computer. What do you care about agreeable? Unless you're not really the computer."

Atlantis was silent.

 _Sorry, Sheppard. I enjoyed working with you on the anomaly problem. Glad it all worked out._ The voice was the same neutral quality, but the words had lost their formality.

"Who is this?"

There was no answer for a long moment. _Don't worry about being monitored in the chair room. I'm deleting the program._

"Who is it?" he asked again. He didn't expect an answer, but now he had something to occupy his thoughts until they reached their new planet.

*****

Cam was back in the lab for the second time that night. The new planet had a 42.5-hour rotation, and they were all having trouble adjusting. They stayed on a 24-hour day, so there was no apparent correlation of light and expected activity. The medical staff had the scientific team looking for another planet before it started causing real problems with people's circadian rhythms. Woolsey had suggested trying two 21-hour days, and if they couldn't find a planet they might try that next. 

Cam hadn't seen Sheppard other than in passing for the last few days. Moving planets probably meant a lot of paperwork, or something. He felt a little disappointed, but he put it aside. He wasn't sure what he'd say, anyway. There was work to be done, and he turned his attention back to the keyboard in his lap.

McKay walked in, surprising him. He hadn't seen McKay much, either, but he'd been buried in the data and a few artifacts from the Ancient facility. "You, uh, busy?" McKay asked.

"Usually," Cam drawled. "It's how you like us, right?"

"Yes, but, well. Can you take a break for a minute?"

"Sure." Cam said, not sure what was up with McKay.

"Great. Come with me." McKay walked off, hardly waiting for him, so Cam put his keyboard on the table and followed him down the hall to the main lab. When he rolled in he found about fifty or sixty scientists waiting, along with Maj. Lorne, Pvt. Barnes, and Sheppard. 

"We have a tradition," McKay said loftily, "that when a member of the science staff undertakes heroic activities that might mean commendation in the military, we recognize their valor."

"What are you talking about?" Cam said. 

"You killed a Wraith," Lorne said, grinning.

"Actually, a bunch of them," Barnes added, and then blushed as he realized he'd corrected a superior officer.

" _And_ ," McKay said, "managed to bring back an entire hard-drive's worth of data on Ancient astrophysics and n-space topology. Bravery and science together. Qualities few of us have." McKay gestured at his own chest, and there was a collective murmur among the scientists. McKay ignored it, but Cam remembered how McKay moved in the field, and wondered how many of the lab folks knew. McKay was still talking. "Thus we would like to bestow upon you the Order of Lorenz." Someone Cam didn't recognize came up holding a bed pillow draped in laboratory bench paper. On it was a wire sculpture resembling a butterfly shaped from whorls. Cam recognized it as a representation of the plot of the Lorenz equations for modeling unpredictable behavior. McKay picked it up by a piece of ribbon cable cannibalized from some piece of equipment. "It's chaos out here," he said, smiling at his own pun, "and the strange attractors force us to serve many roles."

Cam found himself blushing, proud as he'd been of any military honor, as McKay put the cable around his head and settled the hand-made medal on his chest. "For meritorious service to Atlantis we hereby proclaim that Dr. Cameron Mitchell is a member of the Order of Lorenz, and you should give him the respect due to someone who risked his life for science." 

Cam could hear applause. Before McKay could do or say anything else, Cam reached for his crutches and stood up, only then shaking McKay's hand. "Not bad, Artoo," McKay added, not loudly enough to be heard by anyone else. The applause went thunderous, and Cam smiled brightly, hoping the flush creeping up his neck didn’t make it past the collar of his t-shirt. 

McKay saved him. "All right everybody, back to work!" he shouted. Then he turned to Cam. "Not you. You have the rest of the day off." He walked away, and Cam realized he was embarrassed himself, for some unfathomable reason.

Zelenka came up to him to shake his hand. "The story is that Pvt. Barnes pushed you straight through a dozen Wraith while you fired both your gun and his. Quite the action movie."

Barnes was behind Zelenka. "Actually, he did kind of look like an action hero." He reached forward to shake Cam's hand. "I like the unofficial version, too. Maybe we'll try that trick next time." 

_Next time_. Cam hoped there would be a next time. He probably shook two dozen hands before Sheppard appeared at his elbow. "I think the next beer was supposed to be on you, but as the commanding officer, I'm supposed to buy you a drink." He nodded toward Cam's chest.

"I'm not military," Cam reminded him. 

"C'mon," Sheppard said. 

Cam looked at him. He couldn't read the look on Sheppard's face, but there was more behind it than a beer. "You wrassle Beulah there. I need to stretch my legs." Cam turned back to the scientists, who had been slowly disbursing. He wanted to acknowledge them somehow, but wasn't sure what to do, so he yelled, "Thank you!" A few voices called back as he turned for the door. Sheppard paced him, pushing the chair, and when they got to the transporter, he let Sheppard set the coordinates.

Cam recognized the corridor where Sheppard lived, the door to his room, the Johnny Cash poster over his bed. He figured they'd go over to the balcony, so he stayed near the door where Sheppard had parked Beulah just inside, out of the way. He watched Sheppard pull out two beers and take off the caps. "Have a seat," he said, indicating the desk chair. 

Cam finally recognized the look and the tone of voice. It was the sound of a CO about to deliver a "come to Jesus" talk disguised as a friendly chat with a subordinate. Cam walked over and sat down, leaning his crutches on Sheppard's desk, glad to take the load off his legs. He decided to delay the inevitable lecture on risking his life and playing cowboy. "How many of these have been given out?" Cam asked. 

"A few. Rodney doesn't always invite me to the ceremony. Usually they're nominated by their military team, but it's a scientist thing." Sheppard smirked. "I suggested the name, though."

"Doesn't surprise me," Cam said, and then wished he could take it back when Sheppard looked at him with a little too much interest. 

"Why is that?" he asked, too casually.

"Hacked your records," Cam said, feeling himself blush. "Masters degree."

"Anything else you want to tell me you hacked into? Anything about that new interface with the control chair?"

Cam felt the blood drain from his face. Sheppard must have figured out it was him and not Atlantis talking to him in the chair. He looked at the beads of condensation gathering around the neck of the beer bottle, and wiped them away with his thumb. "Look, Sheppard," he began, and looked down, his eye catching the Lorenz swirls. He pulled off the medal.

"Lorne tells me you deserved that more than any other scientist."

"Used to be military," Cam shrugged. "Not sure it counts."

"Pilot, not ground pounder," Sheppard pointed out. 

Cam wondered where this was going. Was he going to get raked over the coals for pretending to be the city talking with Sheppard in the chair, or raked over the coals for risking his neck? "I don't move like a ground pounder," Cam said, nodding back toward Beulah.

"That you don't," Sheppard said.

"Seriously," Cam said. "I was thinking about it like a dogfight, but I only had two dimensions."

"You okay with what happened? It was supposed to be a shakedown."

"Okay?" Cam's brain was still playing catch-up, but he wasn't even sure what he was supposed be catching. This one he could answer, though. "I haven't felt that alive since I crashed in Antarctica. If I thought I had a chance in hell, I'd ask you to put me on a gate team."

Sheppard nodded. "So instead you've been getting your thrills another way."

Cam closed his eyes. There it was. He took a first pull from his beer. Might as well enjoy it before the conversation got really ugly. He swallowed and said, "Wasn't just thrill seeking."

"Yeah?"

"It was," Cam started, then put on his best wry grin. "It was the only way I could talk with you."

"We talk all the time."

"Not really." Cam let himself go all in. "We never talked before, Sheppard, about things like about the anomaly. We figured it out when you were in the chair, but you played dumb when it wasn't just you and a computer. You're different in front of other people. Hell, in front of people! And even at Maxwell, we never hung out and just did stuff, or goofed around, or watched a game."

"Can't exactly date in the Air Force."

"I wasn't looking to date you! I'm not talking deep and meaningful!" Cam said, exasperated. "Except maybe the math." He was tired of yo-yoing between feeling busted and feeling like he was beating his head against the wall of Sheppard's bug crazy brain. "I mean, yes, I liked fooling around with you that way, but I just liked _you_. I'm _not_ in the Air Force any more, and no one here _cares_ if I like boys or girls, and I get that you still are, and military commander, and all that jazz. I would _love_ to be sleeping with you, but that's not the goddamned _**point**_." He practically shouted the last word, and then stopped himself, catching his breath.

Sheppard looked at him; his eyebrows had been rising with Cam's voice, and after Cam stopped Sheppard cocked his head. "You pretended to be Atlantis so you could talk with me?" Cam nodded, and took a sip of beer to cover his embarrassment. "Anybody ever tell you you're nuts?" Sheppard asked.

"Not lately," Cam said, not bothering to cover his irritation. 

"Well, someone's got to do it. You're nuts."

"Pleased to meet you, kettle," Cam groused.

"It was you who wrote that program for the jumper, not the city."

"Yeah," Cam said.

After a moment Sheppard said, "I've got the BC-Miami game with Flutie's Hail Mary. Ever seen it?"

Cam looked up. Sheppard's face wore that wry amused expression he used to cover almost everything. "Nope," he answered. "I could use a decent football game." They settled themselves on Sheppard's bed, backs against the wall with the laptop on Sheppard's knees. 

Sometime in the second quarter Sheppard said, "There are going to be missions where an Astromech droid would come in handy. For all I know, McKay is already designing you a new chair with rockets, like they showed in Phantom Menace."

"Never mention the prequels again," Cam said, "and you got yourself a deal."

"That mean I get to call you Artoo?"

"Just not in bed," Cam said, and then regretted it as Sheppard went still. He ignored it as they watched the game.

By the fourth quarter they were shoulder to shoulder and into their third beers. "Yes!" Cam yelled, sitting forward, arms up as Flutie let fly in the final second of the game. He settled back, nudging Sheppard where he'd fallen a bit when Cam's shoulder had disappeared. "I'd seen videos of the pass," Cam said, "but that was so much better with the whole game behind it."

"Yeah, it's pretty awesome," Sheppard said, shutting the laptop and standing to put it back on the desk. 

Cam pushed himself forward so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Thanks," he said, looking at his beer.

He heard Sheppard take a few swallows, probably finishing his bottle, so Cam took that as his cue to go. He upended his beer, eyes closed, and when he finished he looked up to find Sheppard looking at him. His tongue flicked over his lips as if to catch the last of the beer, but he looked away too quickly. 

"Sheppard," Cam said. Sheppard stilled, but didn't turn. "I can keep it on the QT. You know I can." Sheppard didn't say anything, just nodded his head once. "The only thing I can't do is what we used to do, and I don't want any of it if it means no more football."

Sheppard turned, and dropped to his knees in front of Cam. The room lights went out, dimming rapidly on no command that Cam could tell. So this part would be like Maxwell, in the dark, but Cam couldn't kneel, and he doubted he could still stand through a Sheppard blow job. 

Sheppard pushed him gently back, and Cam let him, let Sheppard open his jeans and slide them down. This was happening fast enough that his dick wasn't quite with the program, but Sheppard solved that by not waiting, sucking him hard. He started to set the fast rhythm that you needed when this was happening in a dark store-room on a busy base, but Cam put his hand in Sheppard's hair. It was softer than he expected, without any feel of product. Huh. "Slow down," Cam said, sounding as breathless as he felt. "We've got time. Not like the base commander's gonna catch us."

Sheppard slowed to a halt, only his tongue moving. Cam rode the sensation for several long minutes, wondering what was going on in Sheppard's head. Finally he couldn’t help himself, and canted his hips. As if taking the movement as a cue, Sheppard growled around Cam's cock, the vibrations adding to the pleasure, and moved down, deep throating him with intent. This time Cam didn't interrupt, too wrapped up in the feelings, in the intense rise, and in the explosion of release. 

Sheppard pulled off him, resting his head on Cam's belly. "Sorry," he said. "I just wanted—" He didn't finish the sentence, but Cam knew what he meant. Sheppard's dry spell probably went back a few years, his encounters probably limited to anonymous bars on his few trips to Earth. Cam could fix that.

"Stand up for me," he said, and Sheppard rose, somehow awkward and graceful at once. Cam hitched his jeans back up over his hips and sat up. He was head level with Sheppard's fly. He always was when he was in his chair, but he'd trained himself early just not to notice, because it also made him head level with butts he didn't particularly find attractive. This time he leaned forward, hands on the buttons of Sheppard's BDUs. "My turn," he said, easing down pants and shorts in one pull.

Sheppard was already hard, and freed from his clothing his cock twitched and started to point upward. Cam took it in his hand, took time they'd never had before to study, and learn. Cam used everything he knew, every trick of tongue and lips and teeth, of fingers and of air, and adapted it to Sheppard's responses. He finally had Sheppard gasping, and he pulled back, one hand stroking slowly, the other reaching up under Sheppard's shirt, gently twisting a nipple. Sheppard's hand was resting on Cam's hair, and then it tensed as Cam's hand stopped.

Sheppard groaned, a deep interrogative note, and Cam smiled before leaning back in, setting the rhythm, and getting Sheppard off. He held Sheppard's thighs to brace him, and eventually he let him sink to his knees, where he folded in, lying across Cam's lap, arms in a circle around his waist. Cam carded his fingers through Sheppard's hair. "I've been wanting to do that since Maxwell."

"I think you did that in Maxwell," John said, voice muffled against Cam's thigh.

"Nope," Cam said, feeling triumphant. "I finally got you to make a noise."

Sheppard's shoulders shook in a silent laugh. "No chance of the base commander catching us."

Sheppard stayed sprawled on Cam's lap for a long moment, letting Cam stroke him. It was already so much more than they'd ever had at Maxwell. At last Sheppard sat back, and then stood as the lights came up low, turning away to awkwardly re-dress himself. "Need a hand?" he said, turning back and finding that Cam hadn't moved.

"Crutches'll do," Cam said, wondering how Sheppard would react to the reminder. He brought the crutches over in one hand, and stuck out the other to help Cam up. Cam used Sheppard to get to his feet and spread his legs enough to hold steady for a moment while he re-fastened his jeans before reaching for the crutches.

Sheppard stepped aside, and Cam walked over to where Beulah stood waiting. He sat down and looked up to find Sheppard pointedly not looking his way. "Sheppard," he said. "John." At that Sheppard turned. "Friends with benefits?" This was all the relationship talk they were ever going to have, and that was just fine with Cam. Sheppard nodded.

Cam set his crutches in the sling, and then rolled a few feet forward, nudging Sheppard's leg with his feet. "Let me remind you that the civilian benefits package is much broader than the military."

Sheppard froze, then his eyebrows went up. Cam raised his own and tilted his head, looking pointedly toward the bed. Sheppard laughed aloud, deep and uninhibited.

 _Yeah,_ Cam thought. They were going to be very good friends.

 

***

_**Epilogue** _

John watched Cam focus, while the Tarasan councilor next to John fidgeted nervously. "Are you sure this will not harm the temple?"

Teyla said, "That's one of our most revered priests of the Ancestors. Do you see the decoration on his chair?" John willed himself to keep a straight face while she pointed out the blue and silver painting that covered the back of Cam's wheelchair.

"It is not known to us."

John had no idea how Teyla managed to sound so solemn as she said, "It is a representation of the greatest astromech droid ever known, a legend handed down from long ago, in a galaxy far, far away." 

John bit his lip as the councilor nodded as if he knew what that meant. John hoped the Tarasan woun't ask what an astromech droid was. He said, carefully not looking at Teyla, "Dr. Mitchell has the rare honor of being called by the same name, but few are allowed to speak it, isn't that right, Artoo?" he said, pitching his voice to be clear he was speaking to Cam. 

Cam muttered something about still wanting Brooks Propulsion units, and John smiled. He'd commissioned Lorne to paint the R2D2 on Cam's new _McKay 2000_ chair. Cam had bitched when he first saw it, smiling all the while, and when they were alone, he'd thanked John properly.

His memory was interrupted by the Tarasan. "We had no idea you were bestowing such an honor on us. Pegasus knows of Makay and his skills, but for you to bring your highest priest? We are most grateful." He bowed deeply.

"Happy to oblige," John said, catching Cam's glance as he looked up, eyes shining with mirth. He couldn't wait until they could tell McKay.


End file.
